


Choices to Choose

by SfrogPlus



Series: Choices to Choose [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Akamatsu is a little annoying, Akamatsu is misleading but is actually just confused, Amami's sisters hate him ;-;, Black Masked Guys, But he a good person, Can I Just Say You Guys Love Ouma?, Consistent/Inconsistent updates, DICE are named after games, EVERYONE WILL BE FRIENDS AT THE END OF I SWEAR TO GOD-, Everyone is crazy and confusing and a little fun to write, I CHANGED THE RATING BECAUSE I REALIZED, I HAVE TOO MANY LETTER FICS, I Love Ouma Too, I Use Strawpoll For This, Letters, M/M, Minor Character Death, Momota has a gang and beats people up for fun, Momota isn't bully, Multi, Ouma is really, Ouma isn't as weak as most people make him out to be in the pre-games, Ouma not Oma, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Probably consistent updates, Saihara is eye candy?, Slow Burn, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is STUPID, You make the desicions because I lazy, day by day, really gay, writing this for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 48
Words: 75,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SfrogPlus/pseuds/SfrogPlus
Summary: "You make the choice in this" fic, as well as everyone else, and when it reaches fifteen votes or a day or so, I will make the chapter! I will update regularly except on Saturdays and Sundays, around 1,000 words per chapter or more. Thanks for reading! <3This is a pre-game fic where Saihara receives an envelope from his future self, or perhaps from someone else. He decides to believe it because it seems interesting enough and tries to find everyone else in the 53rd Killing Game. This works as in everyone here has a backstory and you get to choose who you want to progress and change the ending and stuff, as well as other things. Warning to people sensitive to suicide, abuse, and other things, though those are only in the backstories. Not rape though, nonononononono, no sexual content, only sexual jokes and implications.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Amami Rantaro, Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi (One-sided), Harukawa Maki & Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Saihara Shuichi & Everyone, Saihara Shuichi & Saihara Shuichi, The relationships are not the main focus - Relationship
Series: Choices to Choose [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755214
Comments: 36
Kudos: 164





	1. A Letter from the Future

**Author's Note:**

> If you see this, hi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world was falling apart, crumbling away just like the rotten cookie Saihara tried to eat. And just like it, it would slowly disappear despite it being so rotten, so horrid, somebody still will eat it.

The world was falling apart, crumbling away just like the rotten cookie Saihara tried to eat. And just like it, it would slowly disappear despite it being so rotten, so horrid, somebody still will eat it.

And this world of his, this crumbling cookie was Danganronpa- Or rather, that Danganronpa Company. The Danganronpa was a company that produced rather… unlawful videos that were forbidden a long time ago, and ended a long time ago. Despite this, people all over the internet flooded with praise to this series, to this horrible killing game they hosted. 

Saihara was only one of the ants that supported Danganronpa. His entire search history was filled with searches about it, and his room was decked with franchised products. That was why he didn’t believe the fact he got in the game. Or the fact he gave himself a letter from the past.

Because that wasn’t possible. Nothing of that kind was possible. He didn’t expect to be opening a letter he gave to himself from the future, nor did he expect to be rereading it over and over again for any lies.

But there were no lies, it was all the truth. No inaccurate schedule accordance, no wrong details about his current friend- Or the lack of friends, rather. Nothing was out of place, it was just a casual letter from his _ fucking future telling him to change the future.  _ Just the casual, every fucking day shit going down.

The letter was around ten thousand words, Saihara had to guess, and described things very thoroughly. It started with his future self announcing who he was and then saying the following events that will happen to him if he decides to do nothing on December 18th next year, and he will be kidnapped. One year. An entire thirteen months. It was currently October 10th.

Then Saihara will proceed to lose his memories and change according to a “script”, or something similar to that. And the events in the game, the people in it, the relationships of his programmed backstory described like it was real. And that made everything surreal to Saihara. He talks about who lives, who dies, how it happens, and everything in between that makes Saihara’s head spin.

He lists where the people with him are right now, and how Saihara should try to protect them. In fact, he wasn’t asking. His future self was  _ begging _ . Begging him to help the people he didn’t know. Saihara couldn’t help but want to laugh at that, the fact how his future self seems too desperate, desperate for such a blood-thirsty person like Saihara, the Saihara he was right now.

The funny thing is that Saihara believes in this, he believes that this isn’t a prank. Because if he didn’t, then his life would fade back into black and white and everything would be so boring, so  _ despairful _ .

“Saihara, you better get to school right now!” Yells his Uncle. A detective, exactly like his fabricated past. But Saihara is nothing special. Sure, he is more observant than others and helped his Uncle solve a few cases here and there, and maybe was rather good at the cases where blood was involved, but that wouldn’t be enough to become the Ultimate Detective. Certainly not. How could such a boring person like him be something that great?

But apparently, it was true.

Saihara starts walking his way to the underground train- the train he uses to go to school. He usually likes to take the scenic route and walk most of the way, but not today. Saihara wants to see how despairful everyone on the train is today- because it felt _ right _ . It made him feel slightly saner, to see the expressions of the majority, to see them wilt away like the flowers his Uncle’s cat likes to break. It made him feel alive.

The station was loud, with the rocking sounds of the train pulsing throughout the underground, and the mutters of friends talking. Saihara glances around, examining the look on everyone’s face. A small smile forms on his face as he takes his cap off. His future self said it made him look like he was afraid of looking people in the eyes because his fabricated past made him. But that wasn’t Saihara, Saihara was that one creepy kid that observes anybody and everybody without fear, he was not afraid of people’s eyes. In fact, they made Saihara want to laugh in their face, want to watch their faces as they bled to death, as he one by one cut slits in their neck until- Ah. Saihara was thinking too much right now.

The train is crowded, filled with all sorts of people Saihara couldn’t care to remember. They all looked so boring, so surrounded by the walls of their own life they didn't even notice the awful, disgusting look on a blue-haired girl, a phone in her hand, and an empty seat next to her. Or the small purple-head bleeding and holding his arm as if his life depended on it. Or the teenagers surrounding a grinning man with a goatee talking obnoxiously loud. 

Nobody but him noticed these things. Nobody cared to sit down to the seat next to the blue-haired girl, or check if the bleeding boy trembling was okay, or tell that stupid fucking high schooler to shut their fucking ass up. Nobody did. 

Saihara looked at the letter in his hands again, a little bit startled as he remembered the descriptions of the other people. Blue long hair and thin wired glasses, 174 centimeters, female and certainly looking the part. She matched the description fairly well, and then she looked up at him and gave him an odd look, and Saihara stares back until she looks away. She was the supposed mastermind of the game, despite his future self saying she was kidnapped just like the rest of them. 

He couldn’t help but envy her a little.

Slightly over 150 centimeters, purple hair sprouting out without a care, glowing white skin, and most likely a checkered scarf around his neck. This boy matched the descriptions of Kokichi Ouma, the liar, and the antagonist until he was murdered. His future self seemed to admire him- Well, admired, after he died. But this boy seemed far from it.

Magenta hair spiking up sharply, with immense use of gel, a small growing goatee, and pinkish skin. He even had the trademark grin his future self talked about and only one sleeve in his jacket like a real idiot. He was matching Kaito Momota’s description. Kaito Momota, a person that helped him stay sane the entire time, and had a supposed cancer that would kill him in a few months. But this guy looked healthy, too healthy for someone that should be coughing up blood.

Saihara looks down onto his letter again, reading over the people once more. And again, and again. And over and over until-

Somebody tapped his shoulder, and Saihara looked away from the 10,000-word letter. The person tapping his shoulder and giving him a weird look was…


	2. The Supposed Kokichi Ouma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody tapped his shoulder, and Saihara looked away from the 10,000-word letter. The person tapping his shoulder and giving him a weird look was...
> 
> The supposed Kokichi Ouma, the fake antagonist of Danganronpa V3.

The supposed Kokichi Ouma, fake antagonist of Danganronpa V3. And he was fucking _tugging on Saihara’s sleeve._ Panic rose in him as stuffed the letter back into his bag. The supposed Kokichi Ouma was clenching his arm, and his arm was bleeding.

“S-Sorry, I… I need a bandage.” The supposed Kokichi Ouma asked. Now that Saihara was looking closer at him, he could see how bad he was bleeding- Well, he wasn’t particularly bleeding, but rather there was fresh blood on the sleeve of his white scarf. He had bandages splashes around his body as well. “B-But… that’s a lie.” His voice was weak, and he gave Saihara a trembling smile.

“Oh.” Saihara paused for a second, “...Alright then? I just happen to carry bandages around, what size?” It was almost funny, that the boy specifically asked him this specific day. And how he just so happened to bring bandages since his only friend usually came to class with injuries and marks all over her. She always says this because of her “cat”, but Saihara knows that’s a lie.

“Uh- Huh?” The boy looked up, confused at Saihara. “B-But… I just said I don’t n-need it?” Saihara looks down at the boy with his sharp eyes, and he can see the boy quickly look down. His purple hair did match the description, and if he wanted to help his future self… But did he really want to not participate in Danganronpa? Even if its a fake and they were kidnapped and turned his life into a whole fucking mess? Well, it’s not like helping this one guy would stop that, right?

“I’m good at seeing through lies,” Saihara shrugs, “Though I’m pretty sure I don’t need your opinion when your arm is literally bleeding blood. I couldn’t care less why or your whole fucking life story, just stand there for me for a second.” the boy doesn’t argue, muttering a small thank you as Saihara pulls out three types of bandages.

“Which one?” Saihara asks. They are all in that plain beige color and fairly different sizes. The purple head grabs the biggest one and turns around for a second. Saihara can see he’s doing something and then he looks at Saihara with a wide grin.

“Nishi!” A weird laugh spills out his mouth, “I-I guess I really did trick you, huh?” He still stutters, and Saihara can’t help but think that he’s acting for this part, which Saihara wishes he could laugh at, and which he does.

He tried to stifle it into his hand, but it didn't work much. He can feel the weird gazes of people falling onto him, and he doesn’t care. Saihara just thinks about how different this guy is compared to how his future self described him- And by this time, Saihara knows that he is Kokichi Ouma. Ouma’s face turns red in embarrassment.

“Hah… Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Kokichi Ouma.” Saihara finally says when his laughter calms, and he can feel the eyes of the two other people he suspected to be Shirogane and Momota. _It feels so funny_ , Saihara thinks to himself, _this is all too funny_. Ouma widens his eyes.

“H-Huh? You know me..?” He doesn’t seem startled but most definitely shocked. “Uh- I-I’m a h-huge fan of yours!” Ouma yells with his fragile voice, and Saihara pauses. “O-Oh…” He looks up at Saihara, and Saihara looks at him, clearly confused.

Ouma starts speaking again. “I-I mean, I recognize y-you from your website… F-From that picture you posted a couple of d-days ago…” _Huh?_ Oh right. Saihara controls a website about Danganronpa, and theories from the past games and franchise products. Sure, his site had a lot of people viewing it, but he never thought he would meet one of them. Maybe it was the fact that Danganronpa once asked him to feature a product of theirs that made him more popular or something like that… He doesn’t know. He recently posted a picture of himself wearing a new Danganronpa shirt. “How do you know me?”

“Ah,” Saihara slowly nods, “I… That’s a secret. Things are better when figured out instead of told, after all, it’s more fun, wouldn’t you agree?” Saihara gives him a small smile and uncomfortably clenches his fist. He didn’t expect somebody to recognize him, though then again… That didn’t make this boring. 

“R-Right!” Ouma said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “C-can I- uh, get y-your number..? Sorry for being so weird when we f-first met… I j-just start lying constantly s-sometimes…” A smile threatens to spill across Ouma’s face, and Saihara can very well see that.

“Sure,” he nods. This is what his future self would want, right? That would make sense, to keep in contact with the people he will play the killing game with in the future. “Wait- Would you want to participate in Danganronpa? Like, ever. I just want to know.” He might as well as ask Ouma this question. There is no point in not being straightforward unless they are lying.

Ouma glances to his left, a frown forming on his face. “U-Um… that’s a little personal, don’t you think? I-I'll tell you later- How about you? N-Not to..!-” Ouma’s face flushes a deeper shade of red.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I already own a website talking about the entire Danganronpa fanbase, so it’s fine, it really is. Huh, you know, I never really thought of that much,” Surprisingly, that’s the truth, “I would… To tell you the truth, I would. But only for one reason, so I could be here, right now, with the future changed. Because that’s so much more despairful.” Ouma flashes him a confused look.

“W-With the future c-changed..? What… are you talking about?” Ouma asks, pulling out his phone. Saihara grabs it once Ouma gives it to him and types in his number.

He gives Ouma his best smile, “That’s a little personal, don’t you think? I’ll tell you later.” Ouma’s face flushes pink and he holds his head down. “Haha, I’m just kidding. I guess you deserve to know, but in the future, once I know my resolution.”

“A-Ah… Okay. Thank y-you for talking to m-me.” Ouma says with a small smile on his face, “S-So much…” He mutters, and Saihara can hear him. The loud ringing of the doors opening interrupts their conversation. “T-That’s a lie.” Saihara can still hear him.

“I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” Saihara casually says to the boy that was now running away, and it felt slightly familiar. All of this felt slightly familiar, which made Saihara laugh to himself as he got out.

The bright sun fell on his skin as he rose up the escalator. Saihara sighed as he pulled out his phone, his phone with new contacts. It felt weird, and oddly funny, to know that there were people who actually called themselves your fan. And now Saihara knew that one of them was one of the many teenagers he was going to play a killing game with. _Nice to know_. 

He wasn’t particularly sure what his future self wanted him to do, as he said he was kidnapped, and didn’t participate in it willingly. Call the authority? They wouldn’t believe him. Form a Daganronpa club with the people he was going to play with and talk about shit? That would just make him and them be more willing. Say how his future self gave him this letter and wanted him to help them? Even Saihara wouldn’t believe tat- Well, no, that’s a lie. He would and just did.

A tap on the shoulders, and somebody heavily breathing behind him. Saihara, startled as he was, decides to do something... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone and I hope you have a good day! I will use the straw poll for most of these, though I also accept comment posts and will add those to the charts. Please do not spam the straw poll over and over unless you think it is funny. If you think it is funny, then I will allow it (Because I find it funny).  
> This is a joke fic to me, a joke fic means something that I will not take seriously and might randomly quit in the middle. So please don't take this like this is going to end and be great and wonderful and- If I do end it, I will explain the plot. Don't worry. Anyways, here's the straw poll:
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/2k81c75x>


	3. Turning a Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tap on the shoulders, and somebody heavily breathing behind him. Saihara, startled as he was, decides to do something...
> 
> He turns his head and hears a loud thunk as somebody hits the floor.

There have been a large number of cases that started just like this these days, where people would dress up with a mask on their face and tap on the person's shoulder, and then swing a bat at the victims’ face, and then pummel them with kicks until somebody watching stopped them. They were usually in large areas like this and filled with a few people, and the person attacking the victim’s face would always be wearing a virtual reality headset underneath the mask.

Saihara doubts that would happen to him, but he thinks for a second, hearing the loud breathing of somebody behind him. Maybe he should punch him the second he turns- No, that would just be rude if the person isn’t who he thinks it is. Maybe he should ignore it- No, that would be awkward if he knows the person. He when he turns his head, he sees-

He  _ hears  _ a loud thunk, and somebody falls to the floor. Their face is masked with some black bag, and their body is slightly bigger than the others surrounding them. A bat lays by their side. “A-Are you okay!?” Somebody asks him, that somebody seemingly the guy that helped him

Saihara looks up, away from the unconscious body, to see Kaito Momota with his weird plain school Gakuen, his purple hair still gelled, still with one sleeve out his arm. The guy’s friends for earlier are kneeling and examining the weapon. “Ah yes… Why- Why did you hit him?” Usually, even if people were suspicious, nobody would go up behind them and punch them so hard they get knocked out.

The supposed Momota looks startled, but his face turns into a wide grin and he points his thumb up to himself. “Well, I could sniff murder intent from him- And trust me, I know murder intent when I see it, after all, I have it.” Momota flashes him an even wider grin before he finishes his sentence, and Saihara can’t help but stare.

“Ahaha! That look on your face is so weird, sort of like a scrunched-up mochi ball.” Momota says, “What I mean, is that I saw you leave and this guy was following you. I thought I needed some relief, for all my pent-up anger, so I decided to take it on him.”  _ Ah _ . His future self did mention Momota ended up punching quite a lot of things before he died. 

“Oh… Thank you, then.” Saihara nods, forcing a tight smile up to his face. Saihara looks down again at Momota’s friends, messing and taking off the black bag on their face. They all seemed like normal teenagers. “Uh- Should I leave? Or do you want me to reciprocate the favor..?”

“Nah, just give me some of the pennies in your pocket, I’m trying to collect them right now. Also, can you leave? I need to drag this guy into the alleyway now, so…” Saihara nods, still not understanding what just happened. His head seemed to be in shock, and his eyes were wide open. “Oh yeah, Danganronpa, huh?”

“What?” Saihara asks as some other people around them give them weird looks, Saihara stares at them until their gaze fades away. Then he turns back to Momota, or whatever this guy’s name was.

“I heard your conversation with that boy who was cut in the arm. Why he was cut in the arm I don’t fucking know, he’s like that every day on the bus- Right, Sanchatso?” One of the guys looks up at Momota and gives him a nod. “Yeah, Sanchatso knows. He knows everything, can hack into everything… Uh- anyways, I would totally not participate in another round of Danganronpa. The reason? Well, I wouldn’t be able to kill everyone. What would be the point, you know?” He gives Saihara an uncomfortable shoulder pat and an innocent smile.

“Ah… right.” Saihara nods. “Well, I’m going to go now… Have fun with beating up the… unconscious guy, I guess-” Saihara starts to walk away, but Momota says something, loud enough for the whole universe to hear.

“I’m Kaito Momota, luminary of the stars and the best at killing! Don’t forget it!” Momota, now fully confirmed to be, waving at Saihara with one hand and other cuffed around his mouth, “Don’t forget it or me and my group will kill you!” Momota laughs at the last part as he drags the body away deeper into the alley, and Saihara turns quiet.

He doesn’t know what he just went through, and he doesn’t want to know. That meant he now met two of the fifteen members that participated in Danganronpa with him. Two whole living people that kill each other in the future.

Saihara wipes off the drool on his arm and goes back to trying to walk to school.

His school, which he already forgot the name of. It was so boring here, and everyone stared at him like he was a freak. Saihara wasn’t sure if they knew about his website, and Saihara couldn’t care. His school locker, filled with junk like letters and food that was probably expired, was broken, so anybody could get in. His life here, so bland.

Saihara would  _ kill _ to be in a killing game. But he understands what his future self is so worried about it, he just… Saihara doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anymore. He already met two of the people and they seem so… He’ll continue listening to the letter for now, but if he sees any flaws, screw everything about this.

Ah.

Saihara stops in his tracks for a second and looks around.  _ Ah. Ah fuck.  _ He forgot what class he has next. Left, right. Which floor. His head feels like a mess, jumbling up into a ball. Saihara knows which classes he has… Saihara sighs as he goes to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone and I hope you have a good day! I will use the straw poll for most of these, though I also accept comment posts and will add those to the charts. Please do not spam the straw poll over and over unless you think it is funny. If you think it is funny, then I will allow it (Because I find it funny).  
> This is a joke fic to me, a joke fic means something that I will not take seriously and might randomly quit in the middle. So please don't take this like this is going to end and be great and wonderful and- If I do end it, I will explain the plot. Don't worry. Anyways, here's the straw poll:
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/w2hree7h>
> 
> Also, I was originally planning it for it to be Saihara's "friend" or Tsumugi Shirogane since six people voted for her the last poll, but I was a little mad nobody was creative with their answers (YOU ALL SHOULD HACE PUNCHED LIKE THAT ONE SANE PERSON), so I made it someone different.


	4. Study Hall and Assassins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara stops in his tracks for a second and looks around.    
>  _  
>  Ah. Ah fuck.    
>  _   
>  He forgot what class he has next. Left, right. Which floor. His head feels like a mess, jumbling up into a ball. Saihara knows which classes he has… Saihara sighs as he goes to...

_Study Hall._

Oh fuck. Right. Saihara was halfway to going to Trigonometry II when suddenly, he remembered he had Study Hall. He paused for a second before looking around again. Saihara sighed as he started to head a different direction. He was going to be late. Was he late yesterday? For some reason, his memories were foggy, distant in his mind… That was weird.

Study Hall. 

When he entered, the classroom turned silent, and eyes flickered onto him like the lights shining through the window. They were watching, watching him as he sat down on an empty chair. Still watching him. And then they turned their heads and went back to whatever they were doing.

Somebody started to talk to him. Somebody with two long ponytails protruding out their head, and a mole underneath her red, sharp eyes that stared into Saihara’s soul. She had a couple of red clips stuck in her hair and a rather dark red jacket over her school uniform, hands in her pocket. “Saihara.” And she speaks. His friend- His _only_ friend.

Her name… _Oh, fucking hell._ He pauses, trying to remember the name of a similar girl noted in the letter. Maki Harukawa, the name of his only friend, the name of the Ultimate Assassin. The name of the other survivor. Maybe she got a letter too, from her future self? Maybe the letter was a lie and they just posted names of teenagers around him, maybe it was all a lie.

Or maybe, just maybe it was true. And Saihara was as crazy as the people who kidnapped him. Who cares if letters from the future are unethical, or didn’t make any sense. It was _interesting_ , and that was enough for Saihara to not care if he was insane.

“Harukawa,” He says back, staring into those red eyes. A small smile finds its way to her face. Saihara doesn’t smile back when she sits on the seat in front of him and pulls out her phone underneath the desk. “I _am_ in the right class, right? Please tell me.” He feels exhausted, even though it has only been the beginning of the day. Tomorrow, maybe he should take the long way to school.

She does a small laugh, rigorously tapping on her phone. “What? Did you forget your schedule or something?” People look at them with strange faces, and Saihara laughs with her. He doesn’t tell her he actually did. “Anyways,” She continues, “did you read the news?”

“Uh-” He thinks for a second. For some odd reason, everything was a little disoriented in his head right now, but that doesn’t matter too much. “I can’t remember. I think I did an update on my website though… and I almost got kidnapped, but I don’t think so. Why?”

Harukawa doesn’t question how he says he almost got kidnapped, she just shows him the image on her phone, her red-painted fingernails wrapped around it. He thinks about the time she chokes Ouma, the time she tries to kill him. And he smiles at her. On the phone, there is a picture of a black-masked, middle-aged man that looked quite a lot like the person he saw earlier. “There was another one of these. The police haven’t announced anything yet, how about your uncle? I remember you talking about a certain case like this.”

 _So she remembers_. Saihara thought she didn’t care enough to remember, but apparently, that was wrong. “Yeah, he’s dealing with a case like this, though there hasn’t been much movement. I can tell you from personal experience this morning, that they are still working up. They have no idea what’s going on or who's behind it, unfortunately.”

“Oh.” A simple answer. 

And then their conversation ends, and a new one follows up about the homework assignment last night. It was easy, Saihara thought, but Harukawa thought otherwise. The rest of the day goes fairly fine, fairly normal for the average Shuichi Saihara. Weird glances fall onto him, and Harukawa hangs out with him, busy with her phone as well. During lunch, he eats his food. During Trigonometry II, he doesn’t get called. During Art History, he skips. During Film Production, he gets an A+. During Physical Education, there seem to be more eyes on him. The usual, everyday life, yet Saihara feels much antsier as if the world was falling and the apocalypse has just started. 

At the end of the day, he stays for the homework club and finishes his homework early, so he can do… more important things. Few people decide to talk to him, like the usual teacher that takes over the homework club who thinks he needs to talk more, or that bullied boy who can’t look him in the eye. He goes hang out by the library for thirty minutes before checking his phone. He doesn’t check his phone a lot since he has no use for it except for calling his uncle and paying attention to his website, or the texts he gets from Harukawa about unusual things. 

Eleven new messages. Some spam, some important, and some barely piquing his interest.

Ruling out the spam, there were seven messages. Three on his website and how there have been a few requests to do, which would probably take a long time. Two were about the usual thing, like a promotional thing, or something following the lines that he wouldn’t do. But the last one was about him doing an online killing game just for fun, for laughs and it would be a lucky thing, where fate decided who would participate. _Maybe._ He dragged this one into his more important notes to do.

And then the other four were texts from a selection of people. The first, being from that weird fan of his, Kokichi Ouma he thinks was his name. If Saihara was to take into account of the killing game his future self says he will participate in, then he would be the fake antagonist, a deceptive liar, the Ultimate Supreme Leader. But for now, he was just Kokichi Ouma, a weird fan. 

**Kokichi Ouma, fan:** he hello? is this shumai saihara on the o other side? is it are alright if we meet up at 5 o’clock at the cafe DICE? Sorry, you don’t have to, I just vanted to talk to you about your website, we can met a different hay. Hey ace is this professional enough Hey you can go and die in a hellhole for all I care wait oh shit it’s still on voice no I don’t want to send it wait wait

_1:17 pm_

**Kokichi Ouma, fan:** asterisk Shuichi not shumai

_1:34 pm_

And then it ends. It seems he was voice typing it. It was... 4:32 right now. His next message was from his uncle. Right, his uncle. Saihara wonders his future self and his future uncle’s relationship, or if there even was one over there in the future.

**Uncle Sygnomi:** When you have time this week, come to the police station. I want you to help me with the black mask case. They say it’s fine this time, so don’t worry.

_4:04 pm_

And then it ends. His uncle usually brought him over when he was having a hard time with cases, and it wasn’t like Saihara minded. It was useful, to have input on things before the public eye. It made him feel like he knew a secret and if he shared it he could have a risk of being arrested. The next message was from Harukawa. Harukawa… He wonders if he should tell her about the letter, but she probably wouldn’t want to know that somebody, if not his future self, knew about his address and sent him a letter with her name on it. So for now, he’ll spare her the thoughts that come when knowing you might be stalked this very second.

**“Ham goes with ice cream” type of person:** saihara, i think im in love with a psychopatth. help. wait, you cant help, ur a psychopath. nvm. also, he says he knows u. meet me by the bridge

_3:12 pm_

Saihara paused to reread that, and then went on to decide his schedule. Who should he meet up with, who he should meet first and last, and whether he should meet up with someone or work on his website.

Saihara sighed as he sorted through his objectives, deciding that he should meet up with...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone and I hope you have a good day! I will use the straw poll for most of these, though I also accept comment posts and will add those to the charts. Please do not spam the straw poll over and over unless you think it is funny. If you think it is funny, then I will allow it (Because I find it funny).  
> This is a joke fic to me, a joke fic means something that I will not take seriously and might randomly quit in the middle. So please don't take this like this is going to end and be great and wonderful and- If I do end it, I will explain the plot. Don't worry. Anyways, here's the straw poll:
> 
>   
> <https://strawpoll.com/7ab7wahh>  
> 
> 
> I love you guys for overflooding the meme. Also, you can choose multiple choices if you click on two, I just wanted to tell anybody who didn't know.


	5. Café DICE at 5'o clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who should he meet up with, who he should meet first and last, and whether he should meet up with someone or work on his website.  
> Saihara sighed as he sorted through his objectives, deciding that he should meet up with...
> 
> Kokichi Ouma. Café DICE at 5'o clock and the time was ticking. Saihara hurried to change his clothes into something other than his loose school uniform and looked up where Café DICE was.

**Kokichi Ouma, fan:** he hello? is this shumai saihara on the o other side? is it alre alright if we meet up at 5 o’clock at the cafe DICE? Sorry, you don’t have to, I just vanted to talk to you about your website, we can met a different hay. Hey ace is this professional enough Hey you can go and die in a hellhole for all I care wait oh shit it’s still on voice no I don’t want to send it wait wait

_1:17 pm_

**Kokichi Ouma, fan:** asterisk Shuichi not shumai

_1:34 pm_

Saihara glanced at Kokichi Ouma’s string of texts. He could always talk to Harukawa on the phone about what that was all about later, and his uncle said he didn’t need to come there today. Why not let the guy have a little fun with his choices, alright?

He sent a small text to Ouma. 

**Me:** Your spelling is horrendous, and I’ve seen murders better than that. Yeah, I’ll go. It might take a minute so… Yeah, wait a sec.

_4:35 pm_

* * *

Shuichi Saihara. A novice detective that owned a website on the internet about Danganronpa, which Ouma just happened to come across one day. By the way the person sounded, they made themselves seem like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode one day but not yet. He was rather long but didn’t have too much muscle, his eyes were sharp and observant, and always falling into your soul, glowing like a dragonfly. His hair was a strange navy with one pointing straight up, and his skin like the dog King and Queen takes care of.

He was pretty.

“God boss, you have that look on your face that looks like you want to murder everyone on the universe except for the crayons you ate this morning.” Jack neatly observes, and Ouma flinches back. He was surprised, was all, he just got startled easily. And Ouma hopes that’s all that was.

A dramatic gasp and too much hand movement, “Huh- How dare you!? To your dearly worried boss, as his last breath inches by, and all you can say is that he ate crayons that morning?” Ouma shakes his head, standing up onto the chair, “Treason! Burn him on the stake! Criminal!”

Jack laughs, brushing off the dust on his gloves, “Get down boss, Ace is not going to like it when he learns you were standing on the chair of his _beloved shop._ ” Jack, like his brother, was exactly like the brother Ouma never got to meet- Well, if he had any at all. His mom could go smoke pot and die in a ditch after she jumped off a building to escape the clutches of aliens, for all he cares, and Ouma would never know. Jack liked to stay neat, be neat, and speak neatly. He was the cleanest out of all of them.

“Yeah, as if he can do anything- Anyways, where did he and the twins go?” Ouma got off the chair, sitting into it and leaning back. DICE. DICE was a small coffee shop that was pretty well-known around this area because of its name, and aesthetic. The name was originally from a secret criminal organization that was uncovered and the leader to be Ouma’s dad, or so the blood tests say. And now people he doesn’t even know look for him and wants to kill him even- It’s a mess.

Ouma picked up the thin checkered cloth covering the round white table and started to fidget with it after Jack started to welcome a new customer. There has been a recent case of a group that wears black masks and go randomly kidnapping and starting fights with people, and then not remembering a single thing after… Almost like magic.

“Heya, it’s the short final boss fight!” That was Bishop, as loud as ever. Bishop, with his stupid edgy hair covering one of his eyes, and yet he was still able to become taller than their 5’1’ leader. One hand in his pocket, one hand waving in the air, and yet still edgy. Ouma scoffed. “What’s your problem today? You look like somebody just kicked your dog off the cliff- Wait, don’t tell me you kicked Checker to the street, did you?” He gasped, and Ouma couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“No, I ate him!-” _You know, I should probably stop saying things like this when we have customers._ Ouma could feel the weird looks from the other people in the store and quickly changed the subject. “Juuuust kidding. A-Anyways, didn’t you go with Hearts, Spades, and Clubs somewhere? Where are they?” Bishop, Clubs, Hearts, and Spades. Those four were as tight as a 192-atom loop, maybe even tighter.

“I don’t know, did we?” Bishop shrugs, “They went to their apartment to go get something. I think it was… an apple launcher? Something along those lines.” Ouma nods, humming along to a non-existent tune and staring at his phone. He wondered if he should go to school tomorrow as he dragged a 

“H-Huh?” Ouma squints at the screen for a second, reading a message that Saihara sent him. “Holy shit… H-He actually replied.” Bishop moved over next to him and gave Ouma a blank look. Ouma looked straight into his eyes. “S-Shuichi Saihara… replied!”

“He said your spelling was bad,” Bishop nodded solemnly, and Ouma glares at him. “I-I mean, it is!” After getting a stare-down from the Kokichi Ouma himself, Ouma sighs, rereading it. Ouma didn’t expect for Saihara to actually reply, what time was it now..?

_4:53 pm_

* * *

Kokichi Ouma. In the letter, it explained his personality. A liar, a liar, a liar. That was repeated over and over, but Saihara wonders just how observant his future self is? _As there is a reason for telling the truth, there has to be a reason for his lies. With every lie comes a truth hidden inside, no matter what type it is._

Saihara sighs, brushing his hand through his hair. He currently stands in front of DICE, wondering if it’s closed or not when the sign is flipped to the _exact fucking center_. Saihara doesn’t wonder how, or why, he just wants to know how many customers they’re getting with it like that. He remembers an organization that his uncle used to talk a lot about, called DICE, and the claims to all of that organization going to his barely illegible son- Not like it mattered when they broke more than enough laws for Saihara to instantly shoot them in the head.

Somebody comes out, with long spindly, glittered-covered hair, a wide grin on their beneath a clown mask. They- She, Saihara thinks, glances over at him, and a larger smile is implanted on their face. Saihara wonders if he should ask her if he can answer, then remembered what his uncle says, _“Never talk to strangers.”_

Saihara goes to talk to her, and his piercing yellow eyes stare into her chestnut eyes like he knows her. “Hello, is the place still open?” She gives him a blank look, and Saihara wonders if he’s near the right place. The sign says DICE, so… He doesn’t mind being at the wrong place. It would be life humoring at his misfortune, and Saihara thinks it needs a good laugh anyway.

“Shuichi Saihara?” The masked girl asks, glancing behind her. Her tone is jolly like she’s laughing, but it has a strange shakiness to it the Saihara can’t help but wonder why. “Uh- Yeah! Are you here for boss- Uh, I mean Kokichi?”

Saihara wonders if she personally knows Ouma. _Boss… Does that mean he’s some sort of boss? Or is that just a nickname?_ “Yes, I am. Am I allowed to..?”

“G-Go right ahead!” She yells, straightening her back and staring right through Saihara. He looks at her weirdly before passing and entering. _That was… weird._ Saihara knows that Ouma’s implanted memories were about DICE, he wonders how accurate they are. 

Inside the shop, it smelled… oddly sweet, and the shop had quite the theme. Checkerboard cloth covered the white round tables, and the place was slightly like a candy shop. It made Saihara feel a little dizzy, “Ah, Ouma.”

“O-Oh! Hi, S-Saihara!” Ouma shyly waves, his hands on the checkered cloth that matched his scarf. A thought comes to Saihara’s mind; Is this really his true personality? It _does_ seem like it is but… Saihara smiled at Ouma and sits on the chair next to his.

On their table were two drinks with clear cups, one almost empty and the other almost full. Saihara paused for a second, wondering what to say. Kokichi Ouma was one of the kidnapped, and Saihara couldn’t help but notice the Ultimates corresponded with their actual skills- Well, Saihara’s, at least. He wasn’t too sure about Harukawa. _A normal conversation, commence,_ Saihara thought rather blandly. “This is a pretty nice café, Ouma. DICE, is its name?” DICE, the name of the small pranking organization that Danganronpa implanted in Ouma’s head.

Saihara wonders if he’s thinking too much. Though it’s only normal, right? Normal. Saihara decides that’s a funny word, and far too insipid to ask himself.

Ouma blushes, a shaky smile on his face; Saihara smiles back, finding it somewhat endearing how the purple-headed teenager didn’t know a thing. “Y-Yeah! I… know the o-owner so we d-don’t have to pay.” Stutter after stutter. Saihara wondered how that was even possible. “...H-Hey… Saihara?”

Saihara looks at those purple orbs of Ouma’s. “Yeah?” 

“...” Ouma paused, turning away from Saihara’s eyes. “...N-Nevermind. D-Do you want to talk about your w-website now or wait...?” His eyes reminded Saihara of amethyst. Bright amethyst fading to black. Maybe his hair color isn’t natural, and neither his eyes. Or maybe that was wrong, maybe it was natural. Saihara sighed, and Ouma lowered his brows, looking a little like a sad kitten.

“Let’s talk about something different for now, like…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone and I hope you have a good day! I will use the straw poll for most of these, though I also accept comment posts and will add those to the charts. Please do not spam the straw poll over and over unless you think it is funny. If you think it is funny, then I will allow it (Because I find it funny).  
> This is a joke fic to me, a joke fic means something that I will not take seriously and might randomly quit in the middle. So please don't take this like this is going to end and be great and wonderful and- If I do end it, I will explain the plot. Don't worry. Anyways, here's the straw poll:  
>   
> <https://strawpoll.com/s7bwbpa3>  
>   
> For the DICE name's in this chapter, I got them from two references. [ The Same Question ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287387/chapters/55771318)by S_J_Ace and [The Phantom Thief and His Detective](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549191/chapters/56489611) by FishMum, which you can actually see me a lot there in the comment section funnily enough (Feel free to join the +x's). They are some neat people and I would recommend them if you want a phantom thief AU. Also, whenever MEME hits the highest, its power will overflood and show itself in the chapter, so be sure to press both your choice and MEME since you can do multiple choices. I'd like to hear your opinion on this story and any constructive criticism. Also, please vote, because I need to wait for your guy's vote in order to write. Thanks for reading this! :)


	6. "You seem pretty close to the owner of DICE. Can you tell me more?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...” Ouma paused, turning away from Saihara’s eyes. “...N-Nevermind. D-Do you want to talk about your w-website now or wait...?” His eyes reminded Saihara of amethyst. Bright amethyst fading to black. Maybe his hair color isn’t natural, and neither his eyes. Or maybe that was wrong, maybe it was natural. Saihara sighed, and Ouma lowered his brows, looking a little like a sad kitten.  
> “Let’s talk about something different for now, like…

“You seem pretty close to the owner of DICE. Can you tell me more?” Saihara shrugged, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t particularly interested, but the name of this café matched the anonymous group of the person that went by the name of Kokichi Ouma that was not quite like the boy in front of Saihara. Saihara notes how in the implanted memories, his future self only said something about the vague “pranking organization”, and how he knew due to something called motive videos that Saihara remembers watching from the start of Danganronpa.

A blank look. No certain emotion articulated on Ouma’s face for a small second, then a facade? An emotion spreads across the face of Kokichi Ouma. “Y-Yeah I am… Why t-that though?” Maybe out of incomprehension, or maybe because he was shocked. That was often what blank looks were given towards.

“Why not?” Saihara smiles at him, leaning forward with one elbow on the table. Saihara had other questions in his mind, like asking Ouma if he has gotten any strange letters from Danganronpa, or any reasons he would get kidnap that Saihara could connect with, or just straight up tell Ouma about the letter he got this morning before Ouma asked him for bandages and his number, but they weren’t much for a conversation starter.

Saihara laughs at himself; When did he suddenly start worrying about relationships with people he never met before? Maybe the world’s finally ending.

Ouma looks away from Saihara’s gaze and starts to say, “H-He’s a… friend.” A simple answer, yet Saihara knows it’s more than that. There is always more than that, but most people regard it as boring. 

“That’s really interesting,” Sarcasm was a good look for Saihara, Harukawa once told him. He’d disagree, but Saihara found it too plain of an argument. “How do you know him?” Ouma flinched away from Saihara’s glowing yellow eyes.

Then Ouma spoke, eyes on the floor, and the truth was spilled on the floor without a single excuse. Apparently, he was a co-owner of DICE, past down to him by a relative- He wouldn’t specify, and Saihara wouldn’t push it. He wasn’t old enough to fully own it, so he had a friend helping him, as well as a few others. When Saihara mentioned something about the girl he met outside, he told Saihara that she was Hearts, which surprised Saihara to learn it was her real name, and was one of the workers, and his friends here. They all were very close, Saihara figured.

And then the silver bell jingled, and the door opened with a bang.

“Boss! Boss, holy shit, something happened to Club and Spade, and I think something is happening to Hearts as well!” A loud person, Saihara noticed, and they wore a different clown mask on their face. The person’s long blond hair covered half of the man’s expression, but Saihara could tell they were grinning.  _ Boss,  _ Saihara heard that before. He heard it from… Hearts, that girl said that as well. Was Ouma call their boss? Was that his... nickname between him and DICE?

That was strange. But moreover, why were there more card names?

“Bishop…” Ouma grimaced. “Don’t tell me… were they hurt!?” Ouma stood up, shaking the table and barely caring for Saihara. Saihara tilted his head, wondering what was happening. Saihara tilted his head and gave Ouma an amused look, and he felt Ouma flinch at the smile on Saihara’s face. “S-Sorry Saihara… I-I, Uhm-”

“I’ll follow you. I was worried that our little conversation was getting boring,” Saihara did a soft chuckle when the lithe boy’s cheeks flushed pink. Bishop, whatever his name was, glanced at Saihara with a skeptical look but said nothing when Ouma let him follow them.

They were running to an apartment building after a few minutes, with the three out of breath, when Bishop turned the corner. There, Saihara saw something that he often saw in the case files and colored a bright pink in Danganronpa.

Blood, dripping a bat, and the perpetrator holding it was… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone and I hope you have a good day! I will use the straw poll for most of these, though I also accept comment posts and will add those to the charts. Please do not spam the straw poll over and over unless you think it is funny. If you think it is funny, then I will allow it (Because I find it funny).  
> This is a joke fic to me, a joke fic means something that I will not take seriously and might randomly quit in the middle. So please don't take this like this is going to end and be great and wonderful and- If I do end it, I will explain the plot. Don't worry. Anyways, here's the straw poll:
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/pkc9p2hz/r>
> 
> I'm not too proud of this chapter because I kinda rushed it, but this chapter is a little essential to introduce a new thing, so please vote. Also, congrats it was a tie the last pole, the first tie.


	7. The Black Masked Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were running to an apartment building after a few minutes, with the three out of breath, when Bishop turned the corner. There, Saihara saw something that he often saw in the case files and colored a bright pink in Danganronpa.
> 
> Blood, dripping a bat, and the perpetrator holding it was… 
> 
> The Black Masked Guy.

Saihara blinked.

Another black-masked man, slightly smaller than the last one he saw but still an average body type, covered in pitch-black clothes down to his long sleeves to his black shoes, a black jacket this time as well. The bat resting by the man’s side was covered in blood, whether fresh or dried. , Two holes were poked in the bag, revealing icy blue eyes that quickly turned in Saihara’s direction. Panic filled them, and Saihara wanted to smile.  _ They didn’t normally have holes though, and on their eyes were some sort of virtual reality device. _

_ Oh fucking hell, we didn’t bring a weapon.  _ In Saihara’s possession were only his phone, a thin jacket that blocked the cold wind from touching his skin, and a rather anonymous backpack with a Danganronpa sign on it. He couldn’t be less conspicuous with the fact he liked to watch Danganronpa. But it’s not like anybody cared. Still, not much to improvise into a weapon, unless he wanted to throw his phone into the man’s head, and then kick him in the genitals, or something like that, he won’t have much of an advantage. Saihara guesses they have to do some teamwork.

Saihara glanced over to the wall, which had graffiti in bright red marker painted with nonsensical words and amazing things most likely from irresponsible teenagers that could get them arrested. Teenagers, or maybe slightly older, Saihara notices.  _ They must be Spade and Club, and that girl- I remember her. She’s Hearts.  _

Matching outfits, clown masks with different patterns wrapped around their face, even now, and they were shaking, one was bleeding, tightly holding his small self and trying his best not to break, the others, trying to hold and calm down the bleeding guy. Hearts, still with her twin tails running down her head, and the other two with a rather similar stature, one with straight brown hair and the other with spiky, gelled blonde hair. He easily concluded from their masks that the blonde one was Spade and the other was Club, bleeding.

“B-Boss!” Hearts panicked, “Bishop, didn’t I tell you not to..!” She stopped for a second, seemingly clenching her teeth and holding tightly to her shoulder. Saihara wasn’t sure if she was bleeding, but she seemed to be in pain there. “...Ugh!” 

Curiosity inquired that he should look at Ouma, so he did. His gaze was empty, and utterly  _ despairful _ , so much that Saihara wonders what would happen if he went deeper. Ouma was smiling, grinning his head off like a maniac. His hair hung off his face, and he seemed rather innocent, to the blind eye. That was when Saihara paused to look at the perpetrator.

The man seemed to be staring at them, waiting, waiting for something that might possibly, just might possibly not come. No, that wouldn’t make sense, after all, that has never happened before in a case mentioned to Saihara, and his  _ fucking uncle was in that case.  _ Then again, one never quite was found to be injured by them in an alleyway next to an apartment building.

Saihara started laughing at the perpetrator, who seemed a little shocked. He started to speak, “D-Don’t come any closer, or I-I'll be forced to kill you!” There was a clear sign of movement, shaking and glaring at the black-masked man from the last victim, which made Saihara wonder just how true that was. The thought that Hearts was most likely running this direction without asking for any help, and that this was happening without her telling Ouma seemed pretty likely due to the statement she made earlier when they arrived, though the clown-masked member’s injuries said that less time took place.

_ Eh, let’s stop investigation mode.  _ Detectives were only good for when it was too late, but he just happened to be right on time. Saihara wondered what his future self would say about that. A shy, partly determined boy turning one year older…  _ He would say to the black-masked man, “You’re a fake, you better get out of here because I called the police.” But then again, didn’t he say he was terrible at lying? But he also said that after hanging out with Ouma, his Ouma, that he got better at lying?  _

He had a few options he could choose, glowing bright neon colors, Saihara imagines. He can fight, glowing the color of blood. He has nothing to fight with though and doesn’t have much strength compared to some of the other people he has been with. He can reason, which glowed a pale blue. The “ _ fake?” _ black-masked guy could talk, unlike the ones in his uncle’s case, but he also seemed to be waiting, and he didn’t injure the victim much,  _ so..? _ That means he is waiting for more people to come and doesn’t need to kill- he still can- or he doesn’t want to kill. Then he had the yellow choice he could choose from- The fake police move. But that was boring, so Saihara discarded it. And then he could…

“Y-You..! I’ve seen you on TV!” The black-masked man shouted, and Saihara could feel a shit-eating grin forming on the man’s face, “H-How much would you pay for them?” TV? Oh right, his mother and his father enjoyed to… appear on public television quite a lot, and they sometimes showcased their “Amazing son!”. Saihara frowned, thinking for a moment.

Saihara glanced at Ouma, that small boy, who seemed to have his hands in his jacket. Saihara hummed, “Depends.” And…

**The ["Fake?" Black Masked Man] (Lvl. 20 Physical Type) is issuing a challenge!**

_ The ["Fake?" Black Masked Man] (Lvl. 20 Physical Type) is issuing a challenge, what do you do? The pokemon you currently hold are: _

_ [Pre-game Ouma] (Lvl. ??? Shy Type, known as BOSS), his specialty and weakness are unknown! _

_ [Subordinate Bishop] (Lvl. 18 Dark Steel Type, also known as Bisharp) his specialty is Defiant, and his weakness is Ground, Fire, and Physical attacks! _

_ [Danganronpa Detective Saihara] (Lvl. 16 Observant Type) his specialty is Faking, and his weakness is Physical and Fire attacks! _

**Who do you want to bring into battle?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone and have a good day! School is almost over for me and my family usually goes on a trip around this time (Though the CoronaVirus might not let us) so I may or may not take a week off. Then again, I only find this as something I don't plan on taking serious so I hope nobody worries about it. :)  
> Yeah, I came to a conclusion. Instead of copying and pasting- pasting- pasting? Anyways, I will handwrite them because that just kinda seems fun- funner? That's not a word, ok, anyway, here's the straw poll:
> 
> [The ["Fake?" Black Masked Man] (Lvl. 20 Physical Type) is issuing a challenge!](https://strawpoll.com/kbwawf82)
> 
> Thank you koukoinoni, LoveAngie, ghostmelon, galaxsci, ererigado, warmth_ogg, Vanillu_3000, TheKazoo, DemonsCanBeShyToo, LumiiLux, and AbKat for the kudos, and the nine guests as well for leaving a kudos! This is how you do it right? I think so. I'm not really sure. Also, half of your guy's names are freaking out my Grammarly. And yes, I agree, demons can be shy.


	8. [Pre-game Ouma] (Lvl. ??? Shy Type, known as BOSS)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **{The ["Fake?" Black Masked Man] (Lvl. 20 Physical Type) is issuing a challenge!}**
> 
> _  
>  The ["Fake?" Black Masked Man] (Lvl. 20 Physical Type) is issuing a challenge, what do you do? The pokemon you currently hold are:  
>  _
> 
>   * _[Pre-game Ouma] (Lvl. ??? Shy Type, known as BOSS), his specialty and weakness are unknown!_
>   * _[Subordinate Bishop] (Lvl. 18 Dark Steel Type, also known as Bisharp) his specialty is Defiant, and his weakness is Ground, Fire, and Physical attacks!_
>   * _[Danganronpa Detective Saihara] (Lvl. 16 Observant Type) his specialty is Faking, and his weakness is Physical and Fire attacks!_
> 

> 
> **Who do you want to bring into battle?**
> 
> _  
>  [Pre-game Ouma] (Lvl. ??? Shy Type, known as BOSS), his specialty and weakness are unknown!   
>  _  
>  has been selected.

Ouma starts to run forward, a glare in his eyes, almost like he’s being possessed. The man in black panics, and accidentally drops his weapon. It happens so fast. Ouma, running, running, and trying to throw light punches. The black-masked man, panicking. It seemed much too… coincidental, Saihara noticed. Everything seems so-

“Ah- Oh my god, boss! Shit- Screw it.” Bishop yelled, running to him. It’s anticlimactic, Saihara thinks. How the supposed attacker was defeated so easily, just like that, by a puny kid. Bishop glances over at Saihara, “Hurry up. It’s too late for you  _ not  _ to have just seen that, so hurry up and help me.” 

Saihara gives him a small, apologetic smile and walks where a quiet Ouma, flashing his eyes between the rather anxious two other clown-masked people trying to help Club up and Saihara. _So… Ouma just single-handedly_ _punched a grown, healthy man down with rage. I’m guessing that means he was really mad or has a secret strength. It doesn’t look like he could have any strength in those frail fingers wrapped in bandages._ Saihara chuckles to himself before stopping to not look like an insane maniac. 

“Holy fucking hell, you just beat the shit out of him!” Like an excited child, a new voice comes into the show. Saihara turns to look at the injured boy, with his brown hair patted down, arms up like he’s getting ready to fight. “Wow, boss!” He reminded Saihara of the little brother he has probably never met, eyes glittering.

Saihara looked back to Bishop, who was naturally pulling off the mask and examining the weapon as if it was an everyday snack he was about to eat. Bright, icy blue eyes stared nowhere, as they were shut. Maybe he fainted, maybe he didn’t. Bishop still started punching his face and unsure whether or not he should just choke him. But Saihara was watching. And Saihara knew how bad he wanted to choke the  _ not _ black-masked man.

Saihara gives Bishop a small smile like they share a secret, and Saihara isn’t sure if Bishop smiles back or not.

Ouma snapped out of his silent stupor, and jerked up, shaking a bit as he jumped to the people matching bishop’s outfit. “A-Are you okay!? Did you not try to defend yourself!?”Like a panicking mother to a child, he inspects the wound, on the arm.  _ That’s weird.  _ It didn’t look like the bat was the one that caused that injury. It was lines and lines of cuts.  _ Made by something shorter and sharper… What? _

“I-I’m soooooo sorry boss! I woke up like fuck aga...” Club doesn’t finish that sentence, he just turns his weird clown mask over to Saihara and pauses. No reaction as Saihara smiles at him, trying to look all neat and pristine and handsome. Ouma blushes, Saihara notices, and Bishop drags everyone’s attention back to the damaged man, maskless.

“This man… I think-” Bishop starts, his finger on his chin, thinking.

“Who is he?” Muttered Spade, ruffling with his extra-gelled blonde hair. “Uh- I mean, why is he here? And also, who _ is _ he?” He put his hands on his hips and gives a conflicted look, Saihara knew even though his face was behind a mask.

“He was on a date with boss!” Hearts hissed like she was telling a secret. But instead, she was telling a lie. “Though-” She glanced at Ouma, “that’s a lie. Don’t worry your two pretty little heads, you little weirdos, we need to focus on the person that suddenly started attacking us.” she did an overdramatic pose and one hand in the air, oddly poised hiding in the clown mask.

Club froze for a moment, having a full-body shiver. “Can we- Should we inform the police?” If that was the best-case scenario, Saihara wonders how they would react to learning that there is now a new variable to the case- An impersonation. And how often Saihara has seen black masks today. Maybe he should advise these DICE people to be cautious since the guy seemed to be waiting and it might be Saihara’s instincts acting up but he feels like there’s much more to this now.

“No,” The detective’s nephew says, waving his hand. “That might put them more on edge, plus,” He looks up, yellow flickering to gray and then back to yellow eyes into clown masks. “Wouldn’t it be more interesting to have a secret with someone that has a secret about your boss?” He doesn’t look back up to see their reactions.

“Huh?- Like I asked, who is this guy?” Mummers Spade, “And why is he here?”

“I, myself, don’t know about you guys but I think that’s pretty romantic.” Whistles Hearts, “Do you think he’s seen boss’s-” Saihara tunes that part and the sound of her whining for Bishop standing himself and going to hit his head.

“Wait, I just want to know what he knows about fucking boss? What the shit did he do?” Club asked, still visibly shaking and holding his arm. “Wait- Am I seriously the only one that cares about that? Hold on, please don’t ignore me like I’m a piece of shit that should go in the fucking trash again-” They mutter some more among themselves, sharing a secret undesirable to Saihara.

Then they speak louder about more stupid things, and how they’re going to try and tie Club to the bed for some strange reason.

_ It’s all such childish banter _ , Saihara thinks to himself, though he doesn’t mind. It’s nice, to hear voices other than his own and Harukawa’s, his uncle’s, or the voices from his computer from an old season of Danganronpa. “Uh- I-I’m so sorry, S-Saihara! I didn’t mean to… I’m s-so sorry.” 

Saihara looks up at him, and then down at the unconscious body, and gives him a polite smile. He feels like that’s all he’s been doing; Giving them smiles. Saihara tilts his head at the fainted man.

Despite the man’s icy blue eyes now tightly hidden away-  _ No, he doesn’t intend to force them open, monster _ \- He looked around average, with short black barely growing, and slightly darker skin-tone and much more healthy than Ouma’s weird milk-white skin. His ears were pierced and he had a tattoo running down his neck like a serpent trying to keep him still. Saihara poked his cheek, and the man didn’t budge. He wasn’t wearing the VR system that went on the other black-masks, so Saihara guesses that confirms his theory that he is a fake black-mask? But why? And what does he gain from mugging teenagers or adults wearing clown outfits? And who was he waiting for, if Saihara assumption is indeed accurate? 

Even though he was tempted to wait- To see the interesting aspects of perhaps getting kidnapped, he thought back to the reason he was here. The envelope. Saihara has better things to do than getting kidnapped before he gets kidnapped again.

“What should we do with the body?” With not nearly enough of a creepy tone to go with that, Spade asks. “And- Saihara? Ouma told me that was your name, sorry for invading your really extra super duper discreet privacy we all see you care so dearly about.” Saihara thinks for a moment about what he just said, “Don’t think too deeply about it. We’re lying. We lie in this Christian friendly family community.” Saihara laughed when he figured that it was a lie.

“Let’s… Hey, Bishop. You look like you go to the gym. Carry the body in, won’t you?” He couldn’t look Bishop straight in the eye, so he poked the body once more. “I remember seeing another floor above DICE. I’ll help… Five minutes… We’ll have to run again. It’s turning a little dark so if we hurry enough then… Yeah, thanks Ouma.” He mutters some things in between, quietly.

“H-Huh? N-No problem… Um- W-Why are you thanking me?” Ouma asked, his big amethyst eyes filled with curiosity and something else. He was back to normal now, and he seemed calmer. That was good, Saihara guesses. 

“Because you just made my life a lot more interesting,” Saihara hums, smiling an earnest smile at Ouma. It wasn’t particularly a lie or the truth. It just felt right. He doesn’t wait for Ouma’s reply as he continues, “My uncle may get mad at me if I stay too late…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading again! Make sure to eat healthily and try not to ask from Papa John's for a human head. My cat has been all over me lately, in my room when I'm going to sleep and on the chair I'm sitting on when I try to work. She's cute though, so I'll allow her, and she's really warm, especially her forehead. she always is for some reason, ever since her birth. Here's the pole:
> 
> [“My uncle may get mad at me if I stay too late…”](https://strawpoll.com/xay3yez8)
> 
> Thank you to TheNightWatcher, LoginHasAlreadyBeenTaken2, and DualityandEquality for the kudos. And wow, LoginHasAlreadyBeenTaken2, I can't believe somebody has the nerve to take that username! (This is a joke plz don't kill me-)


	9. "But, it should be fine to go."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because you just made my life a lot more interesting,” Saihara hums, smiling an earnest smile at Ouma. It wasn’t particularly a lie or the truth. It just felt right. He doesn’t wait for Ouma’s reply as he continues, “My uncle may get mad at me if I stay too late…
> 
> "My uncle may get mad at me if I stay late… But, it should be fine to go. I’ll help with anything and I- I’m pretty good at playing detective.”

“My uncle may get mad at me if I stay late… But, it should be fine to go. I’ll help with anything and I- I’m pretty good at playing detective.” Saihara says, looking at Bishop trying to pick up the body at the part he stutters.  _ Bishop looked like he could do it fine… But the problem was if he would be able to make it with the body.  _ “Plus, I have a feeling this guy was waiting for somebody, so we better hurry.” That seemed to get to the others.

“O-Of course, Saihara.” Ouma nodded, eyes glancing up at Saihara and looking away quickly. He scratched behind that checkered scarf he was wearing and began talking to Club in a low mutter. “I-I mean- Um, y-yes.”

“Detective?” Spades raised his eyebrow- Or seemed like it. “Hey wait, didn’t this weirdo- kidnapper- attempted killer- whatever, say you’ve been on TV? Are you a detective?” His eye had a small gleam for a moment, and Saihara wondered what to do.  _ Choices, choices.  _ Saihara took too long.

“A detective! Holy shit, that’s so cool!” Clubs say, still feverishly shaking.

Hearts snickered. “You really are  _ our  _ boss, boss! We expect noth- oth- othing less out of you, after all.” She drags out the  _ nothing _ for some reason and Ouma starts to tensely argue, stuttering. Saihara glanced at Bishop, getting ready to run, passing his mask to Ouma. Saihara stares for a moment, taking in Bishop’s face.

His skin was the same, but his cheeks were flushed very pale, Saihara noted. His eyes were a strange tan, and his nose was noticeably sharper than the Ouma’s (Though, Ouma’s nose wasn’t sharp.) Bishop flashed him a smile, “Do I look familiar to you yet?”  _ Yet? _

Saihara shook his head, “Let’s get going.”

Be advised, it isn’t too good of an idea to run with an unconscious adult man, but as if the universe so wanted them to, they eventually made it to the aesthetically checkered café. “H-” Before Bishop could open his mouth again, he took in a big breath, gasping.

“Hello, welcome to papa john’s, how may I help you?” A new person- Four new people, actually. Four more people wearing matching white outfits with clown masks in their hand, or their face. One was sleeping though, at a table. The guy talking to them was leaning against the counter with his elbows, a bright smile on his face. His short hair was a strange burgundy, and his skin was really pale. Like,  _ really pale.  _ Saihara couldn’t see his face but he could make out that this guy was a clear adult. “Oh- Ouma, why is there that guy you were- Why is there an unconscious man? What happened!?” He was very clearly, panicking.

“He started attacking Clubs.” Spades casually said, “Though I want to know what Mr. Detective was doing with boss. Can someone answer me?” Spade put his hands on his hips and gave them a huff. “Stop ignoring me!-”

“Hold on, Spades. We gotta let the adults inspect the body.” Hearts interrupted him, flashing him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but… We’ll make Checkers make you some ice cream, it’ll even be your favorite flavor!” Saihara wondered who Checkers was, and how many more of these clown-masked people there were. These masks must freak out the new people coming into the shop.

Saihara glanced at the door, and couldn’t help but notice how this shop was closed.

“But Checkers is a doooooog!” Spades whined as Saihara watched the new person, with the strange short red hair, think for a moment.  _ He seems responsible, or at least, responsible enough.  _ “Ugh, nevermind- Hey, Clubs, are you sure you’re okay? You almost had a…” He paused for a moment, glancing up at Saihara. “You almost got hurt.”

Saihara remembers the lines over lines, bleeding into his clothes ever so slightly, marking his skin like it was a paper. It was a little odd, but he shrugged it off until now because there were more important things. Saihara guesses he has his own problems and puts it off again.

“What are we supposed to do with the body?” Another one says, her voice very poised and elegant.  _ Like a real adult _ , Saihara thinks. He looks over to see a woman, crossing her legs and sitting in one of the chairs next to the window, arms crossed. Her blonde hair was cut short and curled around her ear, and her mask had rather large lips on her right, her eyes a strange tinted pink, sharp eyeliner. “Throw it in the garbage or something? Ugh- Pardon me, but there is no way I’m touching something as disgusting as a dead body.” she scoffs, looking away at her nails, and Clubs goes to her and hugs her like a child to a mother. The woman hugs him like a mother to a child.

He was shaking, always shaking? That didn’t seem right. “What happened anyway?” Asked the one sitting beside her, intensely staring at the body with matching eyes- non-eyeliner- like how his uncle would stare at a scene- Saihara would sometimes catch him like that when he was younger, staring at a picture of it with extreme focus. He looked alike to the woman beside him, so perhaps siblings? Twins were a little bit of a stretch, but that was also possible.

“I-I’m not really sure… I was w-with Saihara.” Ouma says, deflated. “Clubs was in a very vulnerable place when Bishop brought me over in a panic though.” he fidgeted nervously with his fingers, eyes down. Then he looks up, eyes wide, “That’s a lie though.” Saihara decides to ignore that part, as well as the reason and turns to the body again.

It might not be a while until he awakens, but it could also wake up any second now.  _ That’s the fun part.  _ Saihara laughs in his head,  _ But there are too many people here for me to do a proper investigation, and we want him not to escape. _

“Let’s not talk about this while  _ he _ is here,” The woman says, lightly tapping on Clubs's shoulder. She whispers some things to him, he whispers something back, secrets that Saihara doesn’t need to know passes around while he explains what happens to the man with short red hair, leaning against the desk still.

The guy- Ace, he has gathered as his name, starts to say, “So… You think this guy was impersonating as one of those black-masked people going around the city, and then he was waiting for somebody to show up to take them?” Saihara nodded; He wondered how stupid that must sound to them. “Say, are you a detective?”

Saihara pauses for a moment, “Um… No?” He laughs, his yellow eyes gleaming to the mask, where his eyes should be. Saihara wonders if these are the people his future self saw in the “motive video”. Ace looks away from his stare and goes back to the body. “My uncle is though. I’m just a fan of-”

“Danganronpa. Yeah, we can kinda see that on your backpack.” Bishop nods, looking drained from carrying the body, still catching up o his breath, “That’s the limited edition that they only gave to like, one hundred people.” Saihara gives him a curious look, Bishop only shrugs. “I have a friend- He’s louder than me, surprisingly, who is a little obsessed with killing. Does that ring any bells? Like, anybody you met this morning?” Saihara thinks for a moment. His thoughts on the morning are a little blurry so he can’t remember too clearly. 

“I probably met nobody interesting enough to- Ah.” Kaito Momota, a future participant in the killing game along with him matched the little too none hints Bishop gave him. Saihara blinks, and a smile spreads on his face. “This really is a strange turn of events.

“We need to tie him up on the second floor,” Saihara adds at the end.

“That’s something you don’t expect to hear from a scrawny little teen like you.” The female sibling says, raising her hand and shrugging. “Can we do some… self-introduction? Instead of listening to a guy we barely know. Boss is an exception to that rule.”

“Ah- Where are my manners?” Ace laughs, like this all a joke. Saihara laughs with him. “That’s right. We still have to introduce each other. Well, I’m Ace, my real name holding the same value as this one, the owner of this rather strange  café. Though it’s a partial own- Until Ouma grows, then it becomes his. I’m not too sure why the average human would come back here after having to go through this, but you don’t seem to be.” Ace flashes Saihara a smile- Through the mask- and proceeds to turn to the others, “C’mon guys, let’s use our manners.” 

“I’ll go first then,” The female sibling sighed, brushing a hand through her short brown hair. “The name’s Queen, and my brother-” She points to her look-alike, Waving tiredly at Saihara, “is King. We’re a pair.” She, Queen waves her hand like she’s waving him away as King mutters something to her. They nod quietly among the crowd.

“So- I’m next, right? Because boss is looking at me expectingly?” Spades asks one more question, pointing to himself. Saihara glanced at the body.  _ We could’ve done this after we tied the body. I doubt we have much longer, and Bishop… His face is really red from exhaustion it seems. _

“I-I’m not..!” Ouma flushes, not from exhaustion. Though he seemed exhausted as well, running as if his life depended on it for a few minutes, fucking beating up a grown man- Saihara can still not believe how that’s possible- And then running back the distance, all while trying to remain relatively calm. And then there were the  _ other’s _ situations.

Saihara glanced at them.

Hearts seemed to know but most probably didn’t put it as a big deal. She looked a little panicked though and didn’t alert someone else. And Clubs, there was something weird going on with him that Saihara didn’t want to put much attention towards, out of respect to the person’s privacy as well as it wasn’t his place to stick his nose up.

“I’m Spades,” He grins, nodding to himself. “And- And, they say I ask a lot of questions, but really- Who are you?” There’s a strange tone to his voice that Saihara can’t help but observe. He giggles to himself creepily, “Nevermind. You probably don’t understand that yet.” 

“What’s with that weird intro, Spades? Can’t you make a cooler one?” Clubs asks, “Anyways, I’m Clubs. Clubs, Clubs, after the cards, get it?”  _ I kind of figured that out already.  _ Saihara thought before giving the teenager- Saihara assumed- a small smile, a tiny nod.

“I think he would figure that out by now.” Queen chides. “You don’t have to say the obvious things.” King shrugs, saying, “I don’t know. _I_ _wouldn’t_ think that Clubs have anything to do with cards.”

Clubs tilts his head, “Okay. Then should I tell Mr. Detective my real name?- Oh, wait! I don’t-”

“I’m Hearts!” Hearts smiled at Saihara, “I’m probably the most romantic, so if you,” She wiggled her eyebrows at the uncomfortable Saihara, “ _ you know. _ ”

“Holy fucking hell, you can’t be hot for this weirdo.” Spades shook his head, “No, no, no, no, no- Calm down there Hearts, you’ve only known him for a couple of minutes, plus, he likes Danganronpa! Nope.”

“Not me, though he is kinda hot- No, I’m talking about.” She muttered in his ear. And Spades’s face turned red. “He gets it.” Hearts nods at Saihara for some strange reason.

“I already did my introduction-” Bishop started, his loud voice echoing in the room. “No, you haven’t,” pipes up Ouma, snorting. He seemed different for a split second, though Saihara wouldn‘t put too much thought into it. They really should start to put the body somewhere else. “Plus,  _ plus,  _ I’m tired.” Bishop does a fake yawn without crinkling his eyes and stares at the body. “Saihara will meet me tomorrow so it doesn’t matter.” Bishop glances up at Saihara’s yellow eyes, sharp like a fox, and looks away. 

“A-And you know me already Saihara so… I-I really am sorry to have brought y-you into this!” He apologizes, lowering his head in a strange bow. “I-I… didn’t realize that there would be something like that today.” He muttered the last part low, like a secret. That was fine with Saihara. As interesting as this all seemed, he didn’t feel like being kidnapped before the “kidnapping” that will happen. And there was a high possibility that might happen if the targetted person was indeed one of the members of DICE and Saihara hung around them too much. So, fewer secrets the better. Then again, there was another variable of what his future self wanted him to do with the participants in the killing game he participated in-  _ will participate in _ .

“It’s cool,” Saihara simply nods, “Though, I guess we’ll have to talk another time about my website. Do you want to meet here on Saturday? That would be two days, okay?” 

“O-Oh… yeah, s-sure.” Ouma nods, “Sorry but, c-can you introduce yourself? S-Sorry, they… probably want to know.” He glances over at the others. “I-I really am sorry for all t-that has h-happened… Sorry…” Saihara wasn’t surprised when he muttered: “It’s a lie.” Again.

Saihara didn’t respond to that. “I’m Shuichi Saihara, and my uncle is a detective. Now that we’re done-” Saihara paused, “We need to take the body up, and then we need to wake him up after. I doubt we have much time though. And, it would be much appreciated if you happen to have a rope.” The clown-masked fellows glanced at each other in sync.

“Kinky.” Hearts thought out loud, her thoughts very much ignored.

Ace spoke up, picking up the body easily. That made sense since his build had enough muscle to do that. It surprised Saihara a little. “We don’t, though we have handcuffs- Not, um, we use them whenever Clubs acting up.” Saihara couldn’t help but notice how he specifically said Clubs.  _ So something is indeed different with him,  _ “And sometimes when one of us is annoying” Clubs giggled at that.

“Alright,” Saihara nods, “Let’s do that.”

Nobody argued when Saihara came upstairs or said much really. They all were muttering more things to each other, and noticeable Clubs stayed down with Queen and King. That was probably for the best though, Saihara had to agree. The DICE members seemed to be rather accepting of Saihara surprisingly.

Upstairs, it was as if people lived up here. And Saihara was pretty sure that was right. It smelled sweet, a little like grapes, a little like mint, a little like coconut. The walls were painted a light beige color, and pictures were stuffed around the walls. Pictures of everyone he met and some others, in clown masks and younger and smiling like the family Saihara never had. There was a large room that seemed to be the living room, and Ace pulled out some handcuffs from a cabinet and leaned against the wall.

“So… Before we start, you should probably wear a mask. Since you don’t want them to identify you.” Ace told Saihara, throwing the handcuffs over, “Do your job, I guess, Mr. Detective.” And so Saihara did. They awoke the man, his icy blue eyes spinning, and they started their questioning. Basic questions, yet the man wouldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The mood was a little tense before Saihara left back to his uncle’s house at night.

The night, falling, falling, falling to the sunrise. The creaking sounds echoing from the floorboards, the crippling noise from the birds chirping out the window, the eerie noises sounding so, so loud.

A desk. A lamp, lights flickering in the dark. A man, a woman? smiling- grinning at the opposite side of the desk. Masks, colored the color of the sky, holes poked as much as the breaths Saihara took. Saihara wasn’t breathing, his eyes tightly shut, tied down, and forced to be breathing in the poison air around them, the venomous person at the opposite side.

Mouth opening, yet no words came out.  _ Don’t.  _ Saihara didn’t open his eyes as the person stood up, muttering, secrets that Saihara couldn’t hear spilled into the poisonous air.  _ Don’t.  _ Lightly touching his cheek, their nails burying into his skin.  _ Don’t. _

“Shuichi Saihara.”  _ Don’t.  _ The voice was mocking him, caricatural even.  _ Don’t.  _ “You… Open your eyes.” Saihara twisted his head away from the touch and felt himself sink into something greater than he could handle. The lights in the room flickered off.

And then he opened his eyes and found himself on the school roof.  _ A dream,  _ he thought. A dream he couldn’t quite remember, all fuzzy and weird, all fuzzy and distorting. Saihara groaned, shifting his hand into his pocket, where he found the letter from his future self. He doesn’t remember when or how he got here, as everything seemed a little like a dream.

He woke up. He walked most of his way to school. He played with theories in his head and finished his homework during Study Hall. He skipped Art History. He got yelled at during Physical Education. He forgot whether or not he went to Homework Club. He got weird looks and Harukawa had weird scratches over herself, and told him she got another boyfriend. Then he… Somebody opened the door.

_ Quiet _ . Too quiet, and it was after school. They weren’t allowed to be here, they weren’t supposed to be even in school anymore, Saihara thinks.  _ Peaceful _ , Saihara smiles. Small footsteps to the balcony, a small fence blocking people from jumping off, but it was easy to jump over, Saihara found.

The footsteps stopped, and Saihara glanced over. They were about to jump, he knew, he just wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop them. Saihara means, would that really make them happy? Would it really stop them from wanting to kill themselves? Everyone knew the answer to that, even idiots that believed it would help them. It would only hurt them in the long run, make their suffering last. Does it even matter? Saihara wants to laugh, but he doesn’t, just for the sake of remaining anonymous.

The sun was falling, the fiery colors shining brightly in the air as Saihara rubbed his eyes, yellow eyes fulgurating to grey. Shadow stretching down, it was quite a lovely atmosphere, Saihara had to admit.

A voice, flowing in the air. It’s soothing.  _ Peaceful. _

The person leans over the fence, taking off their shoes. Singing, just before they were about to die. The voice was calming, peaceful. Saihara wondered if they ever met before she- Saihara concludes they are a female after hearing their voice- was about to jump off.

He speaks up, though it isn’t worth it. He stands up, though he knows it doesn’t matter. He starts walking, his feet clanking on the hard floor, even though he can’t save her, only harm her even more. Her voice is a little like a siren’s, he thinks, as she is about to jump over the fence yet still pulling him in.

There is no point in saving her. And that’s all the more reason Saihara speaks up, 

“Hey...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, another chapter. This one is 3,000 or so because it was the weekday! Thanks for reading that long. Oh boy, more homework, more things to do, my teachers are making me think about my life choices that do I really want to write before finishing my homework? Then I realize that stress is a good thing to have in order to stop and get off the computer, so yeet. So I'm recently writing a gift work for Deleteitimphat, go check them out as well. Anyways, here's the pole:
> 
> ["Hey..."](https://strawpoll.com/yydscbee)
> 
> Thank you for Odii, Gh0w0stie, as well as that one quest who kudos-ed this! I feel like if Gh0w0stie and I were to meet, then the person's name is really cute, but they like, creep around the corner, and jumpscare me. Or I've been watching ManlyBadAssHero too much.


	10. "You Won't Die If You Jump Off."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He speaks up, though it isn’t worth it. He stands up, though he knows it doesn’t matter. He starts walking, his feet clanking on the hard floor, even though he can’t save her, only harm her even more. Her voice is a little like a siren’s, he thinks, as she is about to jump over the fence yet still pulling him in.  
> There is no point in saving her. And that’s all the more reason Saihara speaks up,  
> “Hey...”
> 
> “Hey… You know you won’t die if you jump off.”

“Hey… You know you won’t die if you jump off.” 

A strange look, furrowed brows, and a straight line for a mouth. Her skin was like porcelain, a pale white wrapping over her muscles and skeleton. Her blonde hair, falling off her shoulders, and silver hairclips stuck in her hair. Her uniform is much different from Harukawa’s and Saihara’s uniform, so she must not be part of this. Her dull pink eyes glint a shiny red and fade like the sun behind her.

Saihara played with the cap on his head, which blocked him from staring at others too much, the cap he kept forgetting he put on. Saihara isn’t sure when he got this cap back, but the cap stays for now. 

He recognized her- Well, not fully recognized her. Saihara saw her, on TV. Playing on a piano concert his father once watched when he was over. She tapped on the keys, light like fairies floating on them instead. The melody was… a new one. She didn’t win, but his father said it was because the contest was rigged after a random girl won. Kaede Akamatsu. Kaede Akamatsu, a heartless girl that was known for her cold-hearted belief that, “Humanity is done for,” A quote from that same contest.

Saihara shifted with the envelope in his pocket,  _ Kaede Akamatsu. _

A smile lightly brushed to her face. “I know. That’s exactly why I plan on jumping. I won’t die so I can still see the suffering of others.” Those words naturally fell from her mouth, a small giggle following. Her voice was like she was making a light joke- though still sounding dead- like she wasn’t about to jump off.

Saihara laughed after her, a secret joke they made only for them to understand in those words. “Kaede Akamatsu. Our first meeting, I believe.” Kaede Akamatsu, the first protagonist that died for no reason. It’s a little ironic, how she died for humanity, trying so hard to be the person that the other teenagers made her- The leader, even though she couldn’t handle it.

“Shuichi Saihara,” Akamatsu said, her voice going flat. “Our first meeting.” Her voice falls quiet for a moment. She pulls out her phone, snapping a picture of Saihara and smiling. “This picture will be evidence proof that somebody was trying to stop me from jumping off, whether a lie or not.” She giggled some more to herself. “Bye, Saihara-”

“Do you know?” Saihara asked, “Do you remember?” Interruptions were meant to be dramatic, Saihara supposed. “Do you remember the others and me?” No reaction. Again, furrowed brows, and she crossed her arms, her phone tucking away into her pocket.

Akamatsu scoffed. “Guess you’re insane as well. And I was really hoping for humanity to not be ticking away every second from my brain. Hey- Why not try to save me? Why not try and save the poor piano prodigy that broke into your school?”  _ So that’s how she got in.  _ Saihara pulled his cap off.  _ Why here though? _

It was almost as if fate wouldn’t allow him to turn back on his promise to his future self. “Wouldn’t it be more despairful for me to see you fall and suffer until somebody found your body? What will I get for saving the prodigy piano freak?-” He paused, rubbing something off his chin. “Uf you do jump, fall on your head. It’s bloodier and the pain won’t last as much, I guess.” 

“Hm... “ Akamatsu gives him an empty smile. “I’m not sure, I’m not sure- How about I’ll do anything you say for a year. Humiliate myself in front of everybody, torture myself to bloody hell, even burn myself willingly! But the catch is, you have to stop me from jumping off.” She holds out her arms, her sleeves blowing up and down.

“How do you plan to do that, Shuichi Saihara?” Akamatsu, one of the participants of Danganronpa in the future. The first killer, and somebody his future self will admire. Not the first killer, somebody his future self wouldn’t admire.

Saihara opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He needs to think for a moment. “Aren’t you cute with that thinking look on your face,” Akamatsu states with a dead face, hollowed voice, “Everyone always said you were quite the pretty boy. Don’t take too long.” She jumped over the fence at sat at the very edge, unafraid if she were to fall down any second. 

“And you’re quite the lovely-looking doll.” Saihara threw back. He reached for the envelope in his pocket again, but retreated his hand back. Pianos. Melody. Hope. Despair. Barely interesting things that barely ticked in Saihara’s brain. Even despair wasn’t much to drool about once you got bored of it. Saihara laughed in his head, finding this situation quite funny. To let her fall or to have her do anything he wanted for a year, to push her off or to stop her. Really, this whole situation was pushing the blame to him a little too much. “Hey, talk to me some more before I make my decision. I’d lie and tell you because it would make me feel just slightly better to lift the feeling of the pain or a suicide away, but I’m horrible at lying.”

“Well, what should I do? Give you an Otome Danganronpa introduction where the girl smiles like she’s a fucking idol? Sure.” Akamatsu paused, then she leaned back into the fence. “My name is Kaede Akamatsu. I’m a pianist. Nice to meet you!- Oh, but people only call me the piano freak or the piano bitch. Tee-hee!” A stiff smile formed on her face.

“And I’m Shuichi Saihara, interested in detective work and Danganronpa nerd-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Danganronpa actually had you franchise one of their items- God, that was so cool. Your father was even telling me to go meet you when that happened- Could you imagine the look of despair when I showed him you wearing that? You even have some stickers on your bag, I saw.” Saihara gave her a weird look, glancing at his sides.  _ No bag.  _ “Oh- But don’t worry. I only went into your classroom because I thought there would be a knife. Never would I expect you were actually up here, Shuichi Saihara, the student smartass, the honor student that parents boast about all the time.” Akamatsu laughed some more.

“I see,” Saihara nodded, “Oh- I have an idea on what to do now. We can stop talking now… So,” Saihara opens his mouth once more...   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on that gift work for Deleteitimphat! I recently made a series for my gift works since I like to write those cuz' I like to try and make them happy, those good people. I always plan on writing all the names of DICE, but I'll do that when I introduce them all, as well as some slight personality traits, to clear things for you. Anyways, here's the poll and have a good day:
> 
> [Saihara opens his mouth...](https://strawpoll.com/sd9863x7)
> 
> Thank you to the two guests that kudos! :)


	11. "I have an envelope. From my-"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I see,” Saihara nodded, “Oh- I have an idea on what to do now. We can stop talking now… So,” Saihara opens his mouth once more…

“...” Saihara wavered for a moment. He isn't sure if this is a good idea, to say this right now. Would it really be a good idea? Should he really say this to a prodigy pianist that broke into this school and woke him up with the loud thrumming of her steps by accident? 

Saihara smiled.  _ That’s what’s going to make this so interesting, remember?  _

“Out with it, pretty boy.” Akamatsu grumbled, “The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know. I don’t have all day to wait until I jump off-” She paused, “Actually I do. I’m just not patient enough to have faith in humanity.” She giggled some more, with that fake empty laugh that didn’t pass as carefree and swung her legs at the edge. 

“I have an envelope. From my-”  _ Huh?  _ Saihara tried once more, “Envelope. From my…” Saihara reached for his mouth. “Sorry, I… have an envelope from-” The words failed to come out. His throat tightened, and he tried doing it again, but to no avail would they fall out.

Akamatsu turned behind her with a blank look, raising her eyebrow. “You have an envelope. Okay, alright, that’ll stop suicide. I can see the headlines now! “Shuichi Saihara learns how to take a hint! Amazing! Absolute!” Saihara laughs with her.  _ Change of plans, let’s see if I can text that to Ouma though. _

“How about… What would you do if I jumped off with you?” Saihara asked, tilting his head. A small, stiff smile formed on her face, and she jumped over the fence back to their side. She leaned forward, hands behind her back and smiling, smiling that ominous smile, and eyes floriding a dull pink.

“You’re so risky, Shuichi Saihara.~” She sang, pulling out her phone, “Hold up. I need to take a photo with you to show a  _ certain person _ that I did come here and meet you- Oh, don’t worry. I won’t leak it unless you ask me to. Congrats! You officially got a slave.”

“Human trafficking.” Saihara thought, “I see.” Saihara nodded thoughtfully, smiling at Akamatsu. Akamatsu raised her phone and took a quick picture, she smiled at Saihara, and for some strange reason, Saihara suddenly wanted to jump back.

“You do realize I wasn’t actually going to jump, right?” Akamatsu laughed, and Saihara smiled at her.  _ So people will question it if I push her off.  _ “Hah- that look on your face is too funny. Why would I go to some random school just to jump off! No, I was just here to stalk you.” Saihara blinked at her.

“I'm not sure. Do I really look like the type of person that would give a fuck?” Saihara furrowed his brows. “It’s sunrise right now… So I should have met with Ouma… Ugh, I have to go. As interesting as you are, I have even more interesting mysteries to solve.” Akamatsu pouted, throwing her hands to her hips.

“What are you talking about? Aren’t I more interesting than that brunette person I see you smile at or that disgusting uncle of yours that- By the way, when I broke into your house and read his notes, I read he was hiding something from the police that’s really important!” Akamatsu complained, tapping her fingers against herself, crossing her arms. “Damn, Shuichi Saihara.”

Saihara laughed at that. “That’s a little bipolar, I’m not going to lie. Don’t go all yandere at me right now.” Saihara pulled his phone out of his pocket, and Akamatsu tilted her head. “Isn’t your phone in your bag, I thought I checked and…” She muttered, and Saihara glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Anyways, give me your number. Unless you want me to jump off right now. I don’t mind.” Akamatsu shrugged, “and make sure to place a heart next to it-”

“No. Here, my number is **XXX** - **XXX** - **XXXX** . I should leave. Also, don’t mention the fact that you stalk me to anyone because they’ll freak out, ah- and don't touch Harukawa. She’s my friend.” Saihara detailed over, “And don’t break into my uncle’s house, just steal our doorknob and ask for someone to replicate the key, or something like that. It annoys me with the fact somebody broke into where I live without using a key.”

Akamatsu rolled her eyes, “Hey- I don’t like how calm you are about all of this. Is this too boring? Is this-” And again, she gets interrupted for asking such simple questions. Saihara can feel himself ticking into boredom, and he doesn’t want that to happen.

“Stop being so predictable. I need to go meet with Ouma… Oh yeah. You said you stalk me. Yesterday, or at night before yesterday, did you see anybody come and leave an envelope there, or something…” He stops talking, not because he wants to, but because his voice fails to come out again. Akamatsu gives him a funny look.

“No- You do realize I have another life other than stalking. I’m a prodigy and have a full life ahead of other than my plan on marrying you.” Akamatsu laughs as Saihara hurries to leave after that. “Bye dear!~” Saihara decided to ignore the last part and wondered where he should go, he ran down the stairs, almost stumbling, and grabbed his bag quickly. Nothing missing, and he still had everything. He quickly checked his envelope.  _ It hasn’t changed. But, why couldn’t I say anything about it? _

Saihara went to text Ouma. His hands tapping on the phone as fast as he could try to write, then he tried again, and tried again, and tried- And tried… and tried, but it wouldn’t work for some reason. Every time he would either drop it or it would delete on itself. Almost as if the supernatural were trying to stop him. The last time, he got a notification from somebody. Saihara laughed to himself as he tried to see who texted him.

Harukawa. Of course. Of fucking course it was her. He sighed, calming the beat of his heart. He read the line, rubbing his eyes. There was a psycho blonde with a dramatic personality change- In fact, everyone so far corresponding with Danganronpa’s final game has had so- that wanted to marry him, and was talking about Harukawa for a second, was upstairs right this second.

__ **“Ham goes with ice cream” type of person:** saihara

_ 6:01 pm _

__ **“Ham goes with ice cream” type of person:** saihara can u come here with me my new boyfriend rlly wants to meet u. He keeps on saying something about how he met u. Come to the bridge.

_ 6:02 pm _

Saihara paused. She was talking about her new boyfriend again, who supposedly recognized Saihara from somewhere or knew him. Somebody came to his mind. That Kaito Momota guy, because his future self talked about the two like they were close. But he quickly waved that thought away.

_ That’s not possible.  _ Saihara heard another ding and glanced at Akamatsu’s new number.

__ **Kaede Akamatsu, Piano Prodigy:** Hello? Is this Shuichi Saihara? It’s been a while, let’s go for coffee tonight. Would that be alright? Let’s talk about marriage. I’ll arrange it, and you can find us a house. That’s what my parents did. :)

_ 6:02 pm _

Saihara paused. 

**Me:** You just talked to me.

_ 6:04 pm _

__ **Kaede Akamatsu, Piano Prodigy:** :) Meet me on the roof. Also, I broke in here by going by the back and jumping over the broken part, so make sure to do that if you want to leave. And watch out for the guard at the front.

_ 6:04 pm _

**Me:** You just talked to me though.

_ 6:04 pm _

Saihara glared at the screen, and threw his bag over his shoulder.  _ Well, it should be fine as long as I don’t… I can also go to the police station to see my uncle. That would be a good idea as well, since then I can search the case files and try to find anything or learn anything about the black-masked case to help Ouma... Ouma. That would be a good idea, though a little boring. _

_ Or I could go see Harukawa and that “boyfriend” of hers, as well as give her some more bandaids because she might be hurt again by that imaginary cat of hers. That might be good to clear my mind and get rid of my thoughts for a while, clear my mind, and see what she’s up to. _

_ Or I could…  _ Saihara ignores the spammed messages he is getting from Akamatsu with smiley faces,  _ I could go see her. But I don’t really want to do that right now and that might give me a headache, and I might not handle her marriage thing- I really hope she isn’t being influenced by my parents, or I might have to be on the low for a few days, and that might be a problem if I want to fine…  _ Saihara is talking about how it might be a problem to find the other people in the killing game he will participate in.

_ I could also explore the city and try to find out places they might be in, but I doubt that would work very well. I heard of Himiko Yumeno before because she was doing a magic class somewhere around Kichijoji one time when I came across her “situation” in a magazine, I can look at that as well, but I might not have enough time to catch her since the class ends at 7:00 pm. _

Saihara should go meet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upstairs in the computer room where I work on things... *type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*type*- TYPE. You can just hear me typing everything every four seconds and then revising it every eight seconds but not going back to beta read. Hey, if anyone can hit me up with saying they could beta read for a day, or a week, or for however long they want, I'd be pretty down for that. Have a good day, everyone. :) Here's the poll! (Also, the name of Saihara's uncle means something so if anyone wants to comment what it is that'd be like an extra puzzle):
> 
> [Saihara should go meet...](https://strawpoll.com/czck8yk5)
> 
> Thank you for the three guests who kudos and oumasai_trash. Oumasai_trash, that name is a mood. It's a mood because you can't really shorten it. Oumasai or tras- Hmm... OT.


	12. Uncle Sygnomi, In The Police Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara should go meet…

“Hey there, Saihara.” His uncle said, not lifting his head away from his papers even once. “You...” 

Saihara glanced at his uncle. His uncle was still young, in his mid 20’s; He looked older though, which must’ve been from all the detective work he does. He was related to his mom, yet was clearly so different. His skin was like a white sheet of paper, with bruises here and wrinkles there, his hair was a default black gelled down with strings of grey, growing a stub on his chin. His eyes were a dark grey like him.

His name was Sygnomi, which meant sorry in some bizarre language Saihara’s grandparents thought was cool. They were sorry because he was an accident, and they planned on putting him into an orphanage. But then they didn’t, because then they learned how fast he was learning everything. A golden detective.

In a way, Saihara and his uncle related quite a lot to each other, and got along pretty well. In another way, it was almost like they were playing chess, where no one was winning and everything was just tense gameplay that amused them to no end like the monsters they identified as.

“Saihara, I feel like you want to ask me something. Was it about how I didn’t come home last night? I’m sorry, it’s just that I got too fixated on the case. I found out some new things though, so I’ll order us whatever food you want tonight.” his uncle gave him a small smile and looked back down, shifting papers.

“Alright.” Saihara nodded. _That isn’t why I’m here though_ , “It isn’t about how you didn’t come home last night, but may I..? I know that the general public isn’t allowed to know about the black-masked cases fully yet, and I count as that, but may I search through the files? Something happened.” A small pause, then his uncle waved at him.

“I don’t care anymore. Do whatever you want, Saihara.” His uncle said, “Wait- What do you want for dinner again? I need to order before I forget.” 

Saihara looked around the room. Walls covered with white, a simple black chair and then all the case files were outside the room where the others could look at- The others authorized. Nobody seemed to care much how Sygnomi’s nephew often searched through them anymore, which Saihara found slightly amusing. _They aren’t doing their job properly. They must not think I’m able to do anything with that information since I’m a kid they’ve known since toddler age._

“Just... Let’s have some chicken tonight. I already went to the supermarket two days ago and got the ingredients. I was just waiting for you to come home.” Saihara stated. He reached out for the file on his uncle’s desk, the one on the very side. What fortunate luck for his uncle to have been assigned to this case.

“I don’t know where your cooking comes from Saihara. Your mom and dad definitely don’t have it because they’re too busy being _goddamn_ princesses, and I know for sure I’m horrible at it. I’m not complaining about having you cook though.” His uncle said, picking up his pen and starting to scribble something about stuff. Something about a pattern, something about uprise. Saihara wasn’t too interested.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high.” Saihara said in a restrained voice, flipping through the pages. Basic knowledge. About how they’re always medium built, about how they’re always wearing a black mask therefore the name, about how they’re always wearing black clothes that can’t differentiate them from others. They are always people that don’t stand out much, the average citizen in this broken world, normally with black hair or brown, no impressive skills. Then it talks about the known victims, and how they take them down. They don’t go into alleyways, they just start tapping on someone’s shoulder and before the person can full comprehend that there is a black-masked person behind them, the black-masked fellows often beat up the suspected victim without hesitation, often going for the neck last and the legs first. They don’t kill the victims, and usually happen when both in a crowd and an empty place. When taking their mask off, there will be a device covering their eyes, suspected to be a VR device to control the suspect. The suspects claim they have no memory of doing such a thing, or have any memories from that day, and when they leave the scene undetected... The suspect disappears.

The logical reason for all these incidents is that it’s all a dream and Saihara never got an envelope from his future self, and he never “ _coincidentally_ ” 

A small smile came upon Saihara’s face. “Has there been any movement towards the case you’re doing right now?” Like father and son, they turn to each other and a small smile goes to their face. If maybe, in another universe where they were father and son, they wouldn’t be so abnormally tense when speaking to each other. 

Nephew and uncle. That was fine for now.

“There has. A small pattern formed- Oh, but the authorities told me not to tell you, so go tell all your friends for all I care-” His uncle chuckled, “The victims are usually people weaker than them, that are not obviously carrying a weapon.”

“But how is that possible? Don’t the police think that it is happening from a VR? You can’t see those types of things with VR and not have a conscience as well.” Saihara asked in a mocking voice.

“And the victims are usually younger people in their teenage years to early 20’s. Nobody younger than that or anybody that even looks younger. Did you have an encounter- Wait, nevermind. I won’t go too far into my nephew’s life. If it isn’t my problem right now, it will be in the future though.” Saihara laughed at that.

“Alright, uncle.”

She wakes up, alone, cold, yet melting into something that she doesn’t want to. Her skin feels like it’s burning, and rubs it. It’s still burning, but she ignores it, because a small distant voice in her head is whispering into her ear to ignore it.

 _I͢g͘nor͘e͏ ̧it. ̧I͝gn͏ore i͘t͟ ̷a͠l҉l͝._ She listens, because she always listens. When she looks to her left, nobody is there. Nobody is standing there, watching her with empty eyes. That’s right, she reminds herself, because the person she was waiting for didn’t exist. She laughs to herself, and it sounds like poison creeping into her soul. So she laughs some more.

 _I͞gnore̴ ͠it. ̢._ She sighed, breathing in the air choking out her lungs, she breathes to live, she breathes to hopefully see them once more. And then she sits up, legs sore, arms sore, face sore, and everything is cold again, yet steaming fire at the first time.

_I͡gn̡ore ̨i̧ţ. ͡_

A voice called out for her, human, _too human_ , so she ignores it. She glances at her clothes, a yellow robe that really makes her feel sick to look at. THat’s good, she reminds herself, the more pain she felt the greater her faith was to become. Something cold and hard is being stuffed into her mouth now, and she swallows it. It tastes like poison, everything is poison, everything is burning into her and killing her slowly and torturing her-

 _Ig͏nor͝e͜ ͡i̸t. ̸Yơu ͏a̴r͡e̸ goi̵n̸g to b̡e ͢o͝k̢a͠y. Cąl̸m do̧w̸n͘ ҉a̶nd we’͞l͟l͞ figur҉e ev͡e͟r͜y͏t͞hi͜ng ͜ou͝t͢ to҉ge̴ther._ Ah, right. The voice whispering into her hair, caressing her cheek and trying to calm down her beating heart until it stops. She smiles at it, and something painful presses down on her cheek, and suddenly her body feels weak. _D̵o͘n͢'̡t͝ ͠smile͏.̷ ̵T͠he͡y'll͏ ̴hu͢rt͢ ̧y͜ou͞.̕_

She doesn’t smile.

She’s somewhere else now, and everything feels like it’s falling beneath her. The floor is cold, and wet. Perhaps God is dripping tears onto the Earth again. She reaches out to him, never smiling, never smiling, _never smiling_ , but there is nobody there for her to hug back.

There’s so much yelling, and it hurts her head. Everything feels like it’s spinning, and then suddenly grey flickers to yellow and she can feel safety. They’re calling out for her, she can feel, and the voice whispers something once more. But it’s too faded for her to hear now, and she puts her arms down and can feel her conscience drifting. Her throat is dry, but she mutters something. Is she about to ascend to heaven now? Or perhaps she is deemed unworthy. Perhaps this isn’t where she is meant to be, perhaps God has another plan for her.

Her thoughts clear, and the voice fades again. Yellow, flickering to red- Or maybe grey again. She can’t see, she can’t speak, she can feel herself fade. Long eyelashes, pretty, she thinks, and they smile at her. Young, so young. The blood of a virgin.They hold out their hand, just for somebody like her, saying something fuzzy.

“Yonaga, are you okay?” She has never met him before, his voice is small, so small compared to her God. The voice once more whispers something unclear, and she...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words to say for this one :/. Have a good day and please contact me in the comments if you want to beta read for however long you want. All of you are cool, all of you are... lemons make lemonade and lemonade makes people go un-thirst. You know what, I shouldn't write my thoughts down on hear. Here, have the pole:
> 
> [God is Here](https://strawpoll.com/5r3gz6zr)
> 
> Thank you to Gracefall and JustARandomPuddle, as well as the one quest! :) I wonder where the random puddle's water comes from. From water? From lava? From an existential crisis? My thoughts are filled of possibilities.


	13. "God is here."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yonaga, are you okay?” She has never met him before, his voice is small, so small compared to her God. The voice once more whispers something unclear, and she…
> 
> Responses with, "God is here."

Angie Yonaga. Bleached straight hair tied into two small ponytails put on her shoulders, her skin a light chocolate, her eyes an empty grey, a wide smile plastered onto her face and cheeks covered with pink blush. A white bathing suit with art utensils. 

Her personality was less than favored in the killing game. It seemed so empty, yet trying to fill itself with air. Cheerful, far too cheerful. Yonaga had a particular interest in God as well, any religious situation. And she often tried to recruit people into that strange cult of her’s as well as offer blood sacrifices from the others to her God.

And here on this day, with rain pouring down from the sky and the lights from the shops dimming and flickering, a girl matching that description and eyes going blurry, fainted on the floor and not quite looking okay.

Saihara reaches out his hand, and smiles at her, smiles at her because of how strange this situation is. How interesting it all seems to Saihara, who was just walking to school and ignoring the spam from a certain blonde he met yesterday, and trying to keep up with if Harukawa was okay and had no new wounds, or if a strange fan that has a connection wi th DICE, the café. He thinks about last night, the offered information Saihraa got “ _ legally _ ” from his uncle.

“Yonaga, are you okay..?” He asks, wondering why he met her on the floor of a random place, then remembered how strange he met all the others.  _ I wonder… if I should have gotten Momota’s number- No, that would be quite annoying. _

She looks up at him, her eyes still spinning, and responses with, "God is here."

Saihara pauses. “I think we need to give you some water and off the floor.” Saihara worried, rubbing his neck, “Can you, uh, reach out for my hand.” A light reflects in her grey eyes and Saihara swears he saw somebody else for a second.

Yonaga doesn’t smile, but reaches out for his hand and her eyes turn solid. She widens them, as though shocked, proceeding to tighten her hold on his hand, nails digging into his skin. “God is here.” She repeats, as if in a trance, her eyes start to flutter and Saihra stares back at the people staring at them.

Now that Yonaga is truly up now, Saihara can see how different she is from how she is described. Her bleached hair is longer, down to her hips, curvy at the end, and her skin still a bar of milk chocolate. Yonaga wears a long yellow robe, water-resistant it seems, and Saihara wonders if this is the same one she wore in the game- or perhaps duplicates. She doesn’t wear a bathing suit, but a long white dress and flip-flops.

Not too different from what she was told to look like, Saihara thought, and not too different from her personality. “Um, I need to give you some water… Oh! There’s a vending machine. We can rest underneath the covers there for a while.” Saihara glanced over at the shaded area (A strange cover), where a red vending machine is and two benches around it, “It’s not much of a surprise it’s raining here in October, but it’s a little weird.”

“God is…” She pauses, her mouth open, “here.” Yonaga laughs to herself, not a single curve upwards to her mouth. “Who- Who are you? Why do you-” She coughs into her yellow robe. It sounds like she hasn’t drank water for two days, and Saihara forced her to sit down on the bench. “My name.”

Saihara rests his umbrella down.

“I’m Saihara, Shuichi Saihara,” Saihara says, getting some water. He got Panta for himself, an awful mix of grape flavor and pure sugar. He doesn’t particularly like it, but it reminds him of something said in the envelope. “Drink up.” Saihara’s drink tastes horrible.

Yonaga stares at it for a moment and drinks it like her life depends on it. Somebody starts calling behind him, his name falling from their lips. He glances over and finds Kaito Momota, hands crossed and grinning at Saihara and Yonaga like he knew a secret they didn’t.

“Saihara! I see you’re with a girl- Wait, hold on, is that Angie Yonaga?” Momota asks, walking towards them even more. His hair is wet, but he doesn’t seem to notice, and his space jacket was glued to him. “Oh, hey Yonaga. Didn’t expect to see you trying to come to school.” School? There was no other school than Saihara’s school nearby and the-

Saihara widens his eyes. “You guys go to that rich school nearby?” There were three schools close enough in this area. Saihara’s school, which is average and awfully off-putting, a simple uniform with black and white (Though Harukawa wore a red sweater and Saihara wore a thick grey jacket). Harukawa went there because it was free, and Saihara went there because he found the daily life of being where more talented people being so happy suffocating. Then there was a private school somewhere that didn’t do much, hidden in a place Saihara didn’t try to remember, and Saihara could care less about it, so he doesn’t know much about it. Then there was the rich school that spent much too much time focusing on things they shouldn’t have. 

The people there are less than friendly towards other people that they didn’t recognize, Saihara noticed. He wasn’t too sure if he was lucky or not to be recognized as “ _ Sheltered Priss”  _ among the fellow Rich school kids. Some were friendly to him, though Saihara was pretty sure they wouldn’t go fainting on Saihara like Yonaga or randomly beat up some guy and take him into the alleyway like Momota. Saihara couldn’t care less about them though, because no matter what his uncle said, he hated how everyone there seemed to be so arrogant. And even if he wanted to ruin their hope… That sounded so bland, so  _ boring _ now to him. Saihara laughs, wondering if he’s growing out of his phase of hope and despair. That would be so dull, Saihara thinks, what possibly could fill that gap?

“No, we don’t. We go to a school way off from here.” That makes sense. Saihara was wondering about the uniform- Well, Yonaga wasn’t wearing a uniform but a yellow robe and a white dress, and Momota, Saihara thinks, is properly wearing his Gakuen, but it makes him still look like an adult. “I just skip class, explore the city you know? and Yonaga… Yonaga, did you come here to beat up some kids as well!? I always knew you had it in yo-” Momota widened his eyes, excitement dancing inside. Saihara thought to diminish that hope. So he did.

“She was on the floor, looking like she fainted. Uh- Does she do that often?” Saihara asks as she stares up at him, with those lifeless grey eyes glowing for a moment, mouth slightly open as if stilled into shock, and Saihara swears she isn’t looking at him, but somebody else. A shiver runs up Saihara’s spine, and he is sure it isn’t because of the rain dripping from the cover above them.

“I don’t know man,” Momota shrugs, “She barely comes to school, and I only stick to my gang. Oh yeah!  Sanchatso says he knows you!” Saihara pauses for a moment, furrowing his brows.  _ Sanchatso? As in that quiet guy that-?  _ A part of his hair covering his face, and in Saihara’s head, something suddenly snaps.

“Aw man, he really does know everything, “Momota laughed, an innocent gleam in his eyes, “He can hack, he can fight, he can identify things- Sanchatso is so awesome.” Saihara wonders what would happen if he introduced Momota and Harukawa together. Would something happen, like a piece of a puzzle falling into itself? Or would they just ignore each other? And if Momota wasn’t Harukawa’s boyfriend, then… Saihara guesses he got his hopes up too high. Though he doesn’t like how he can’t control his situation. “Wait, how do you know Yonaga’s name?”

“She told me, “Saihara lies smoothly, or maybe he should have just told the truth. That would be funny, to imagine the confusion on Momota’s face. Saihara glances back at Yonaga, and she looks pale, with her wide eyes and mouth still open despite how she hasn’t drank any water yet and that strange feeling Saihara gets from her. “Should we, perhaps, take her somewhere? She was on the floor after all, and I have a feeling she isn’t okay.”

Momota nods. “Detective instincts, I getcha!- Wait, don’t ask me where to take her, I’m not the one that when searched on the internet there are like, fifty results showing up. You appeared on TV once, so you have to be smart, right?” Saihara remembers how his future self writes about how Momota was indeed smarter than he… seemed, to put it kindly. He tilts his head and rests his hand below his hin, thinking for a moment. 

Saihara doesn’t say anything about how Momota looked him up and is now putting his arm around him, grinning his stupid- pardon that, “ _ special _ ” head off. Then he puts an arm around Yonaga and she almost drops the water Saihara gave her, her eyes still blank.

_ Well… What’s nearby? DICE is- But I doubt they would help too much to a stranger like me, unless Ouma told them to. Well, it’s Saturday today, so I might get two things done and once and perhaps force Momota to leave by doing so. Would that even work? Or maybe he would help since he is the Kaito Momota from the killing game in the future _

_. I know there is a pharmacy next to a coffee shop I like nearby, so I go to get Harukawa’s bandages. Would that help? Would that even help? Would that… I’m not even sure if she’s okay but we could get her some headache pills perhaps., maybe get some more bandages for Harukawa since yesterday, I’m pretty sure she got more injuries.  _

_ We could go to the school and ask to get her head checked since there isn’t a hospital nearby- We could also ask her… But I have a feeling she won’t respond. _

_ What would be the most convenient? Maybe... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Sorry it took so long to write this chapter, I was doing overlaps of homework because I was too lazy to do it for the first few days. Thank you to a certain rice character for helping me with this chapter. :3 Also help I think I'm using the :3 too much, is this a phase? My life? The death of me? RIP Sfrog+, never got to finish anything in life. Here's the... I forgot what it's called. I should rest for a moment:
> 
> [What would be most convenient?](https://strawpoll.com/rcp2s9rc)
> 
> Thank you to Iseul_606 and the two guests for kudos-ing! That's a word, right? So apparently Iseul means morning dew, that's pretty cool. :)


	14. There was a tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What would be most convenient? Maybe…_
> 
> _Either DICE or the pharmacy..._

_We should go to the, (_ Well it would be great if there wasn't a tie in the votes _)... There are two options I can choose from, DICE and the pharmacy shop_ Saihara thought to himself, he paused, seeing Momota growing impatient. _The school wouldn’t work because people would ask me who she is, and I’m too tired to look into that. I could care less about rumors but lately, Harukawa does get affected for some reason… So, the pharmacy or DICE._

_The most convenient would be..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tie? A tie. Okay, alright, I'm not quite sure what to do. I just wrote a small extra part where Saihara is like, _hm..._ Tell me if I should do anything else or just decide myself! Also, I didn't sleep last night so I won't think I'll write two chapters in one day. I'm close to done on my gift fic and working on my other, weird fic that I'm not sure what to call! Here's the poll:  
>  _  
>   
> <https://strawpoll.com/fzpsh7rd>  
>   
> _
> 
> Thank you to that one guest for kudos-ing!


	15. Cafe seven minutes down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So, the pharmacy or DICE._
> 
> __  
> _The most convenient would be…_
> 
> DICE.

_We might not be able to buy the medicine because we need a doctor’s prescription, and if we decided to camp at the coffee shop, they will not allow high schoolers right now as school just started- Or, we might not be able to stay there for long._ Saihara tilts his head.

“We could go to a place nearby.” Saihara suggested, “I know the owner and they have a small place to rest upstairs, and I have some business there anyway, so… It’s around seven minutes away if we walk there, and they probably have medicine we could give to Yonaga there.”

“You finally decided? Alright!” Momota shouted, pumping his fists up into the air, “What’s it called?- Uh, because I was definitely listening to all that ramble you were saying, bro.” _Bro?_ Saihara furrowed his eyebrows and placed the Panta down.

“Sorry, I must have been speaking out loud by accident.” Saihara apologetically smiled at him, “It’s called DICE.” Saihara says nothing about how he only met them two days ago. Nore does he say anything about how he wishes Momota will leave so he can check on… his friend.

Momota stared at him for a moment, rubbing his chin before shrugging and flashing him an elated grin and a raised thumb. _What would happen if Ouma and him met?_ Saihara glanced at Yonaga, _maybe people with more of a connection in the future game will make it change, because you can never trace out all memories_. “Never heard of it before but sounds fun!” He placed a hand on Saihara’s shoulder while Yonaga still stared up at him with blank eyes.

“Yonaga, let’s go.” Yonaga glances behind her, and it feels like there someone is watching them as she stands up and throws her water, picking up Saihara’s Panta.

* * *

Too loud, too many words, and much too ambiguous, Saihara thought blandly as he glanced at a building nudged in between a small flower shop and another store which had no nameplate. This Kaito Momota was similar to how the… _in-game_ , let’s say, character was. He was a character, talking about dreams and long speeches, except the long speeches was about how he wanted to break people and torture them sometimes. He had a gambling problem, Saihara realized, and he also enjoyed money and fame. Which is why he is so friendly to Saihara, the Kaito Momota said himself.

Rain dripped onto the three as they walked through the rain.

“Screw friendship.” Momota yelled a little too loudly, “The only people I need are my crew.” Talking about Momota’s supposed crew, Sanchatso worked here it seemed, or was the name he preferred was Bishop? Saihara laughed at that, “Hey- Why are you laughing? Did you seriously think I wanted to become your friend?”

“No- No, of course not. Can you tell me more about your plan to become my friend in order to take my money, and then kill me?” Amazing, just how honest this guy was being.

“Sure- Well first of all, I didn’t plan on killing you because murder is way too hard to cover up, escpecially with someone like you. I planned on having you feel slowly inclined to become my friend, and then pay me money in order to meet up with me. And then I would ask to meet your parents- Ah, but heard that Danganronpa was coming back also.” Momota explained, much too vague. 

Saihara raised an eyebrow. “Really now?” He glanced at Yonaga, who was holding onto the Panta like it was a new type of alien discovered to be harmless. No reaction. _Didn’t my past self say that they kidnapped us?_

“Yeah, but it’s not the regular Danganronpa they said.” Momota kept saying, “Something about how it will be happening here in real life and not in VR- or whatever they used. Not like it matters, since the people who died don’t wake up.”

“Hm, I’ll keep that in mind, Momota.” Saihara nodded, “We’re here.” Momota glanced up at the white painted building, hands on hips and still grinning to himself.

“Cool, let’s go in. Can you get me a free drink, by the way? I need to go for a second because I saw somebody going into the corner and I want to stuff them loaded with my fists. Punching time baby!” Momota asked, raising both his fists in the air and doing a semi-example. He almost punched Yonaga.

Saihara paused, “If they wear a black mask, bring them here. I’ll give you some money.” Not much passed through his mind as he said that, Momota waving and walking off, grabbing something out his pocket. _Kaito Momota doesn’t have to be a good person,_ Saihara thought, _and neither is it in my place to stop him._ It wasn’t his responsibility to stop somebody who wanted to beat up somebody random, and Saihara wasn’t going to care anyway.

It’s not like he was a good person either.

“Let’s go Yonaga. We can get you something warm to drink and you can explain why you were out in the rain.” Saihara said, pushing her in. Both their clothes were wet, and he would rather not- _But that could also mean that my uncle just forgot to call the school I was sick… Maybe. I could get sick if I wanted to._

A bell jingled above them as he walked Yonaga in, taking off the cap on his head. It was peaceful in a way, how everything seemed to go silent here, and he recognized a few people around the place.

“Oh, hello Saihara… I know we said that to meet on Saturday, but it’s a little awkward when you should be at school right now. You do know I already have Ouma to take care of, and I can’t force you to go to school…” Ace chided, a mask on his face, then he glanced at the girl behind Saihara. “I have customers right now. Bring your girlfriend somewhere else.”

“And you’re dripping water on the floor.” somebody else added, and Saihara sees it as the person that was sleeping earlier, holding a broom in one hand and glaring through his eyes. 

“Oh no, I just found her somewhere on the ground for some reason, and I…” Saihara wasn’t going to tell them he remembered her descriptions from some weird random letter, “felt like helping her, because she didn’t look okay.”

Yonaga nodded for some reason.

“So- Oh, you’re here?” Saihara asked, “...(Name of person).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure if you guys want to do a chapter with two votes, or how to do it, or anything, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Also, if anyone wants to beta read for me for forever how long or just one chapter (Because I update daily or so), or if anyone has any ideas or anything that they think could help me or criticize me, then please leave a comment! thanks for reading and have a good day. :3. Here's the poll:
> 
> [Who is the person?](https://strawpoll.com/2wk9gy36)
> 
> Thank you to the two guests who kudos-ed!


	16. Four future Participants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh no, I just found her somewhere on the ground for some reason, and I…” Saihara wasn’t going to tell them he remembered her descriptions from some weird random letter, “felt like helping her, because she didn’t look okay.”  
> Yonaga nodded for some reason.  
> “So- Oh, you’re here?” Saihara asked, “...”
> 
> "Ouma, nice to see you here."

“So- Oh, you’re here?” Saihara asked, “...Ouma. Nice to see you.” Ouma, standing near the front, who paused with his mouth open and wide purple eyes as he noticed Saihara was here. Ouma quickly shut his mouth and shyly waved, trying to tug a foriegn smile to his face.

“Can we get her something to eat? She looks… pale.” Ace asks, hesitating at the last part. Saihara glanced at Yonaga, bringing her closer to try and see. Her grey empty eyes gazed back as though she were shocked still, and her hands were trembling. Yonaga was covered with a wet yellow jacket that probably wouldn't help her much, and her clothes were white.

“I would like it if you helped her in any way you could.” Saihara sighed, “Yonaga, can you hear me?”

Yonaga nods, not opening her mouth, an unsightly straight line on her face. She reminds him a little like a doll. A living doll that seemed all too real to be fake, but the glass ready to break any second were she able to be treated like human. A familiar face- Queen, he believes was the name, puts her hands on Yonaga’s shoulders and brings her over to upstairs.

“Congrats Ace. you brought your first girl upstairs.” The sleeping person from yesterday joked dryly. Ace glowered his way and sent a small smile to Saihara, who uncomfortably sent one back in his direction.

“Ouma was just going to school. Do you want to go to school together, Saihara?” Ace asked, bending to go pick up something an old lady dropped in one of the tables. She all the pleasantly smiled back, and Saihara forgot they had customers.

“He was going to school?” Snorted somebody new. The guy seemed to be near his mid twenties, rounded with no hair and wearing a mask like all the other workers, even though he came from the kitchen. “Oh- We should introduce each other. And the dog.”  _ The dog?  _ When Saihara looked around, there was no dog.

“W-We keep the d-dog in the b-backyard, Saihara.” Ouma clarified, stuttering so annoyingly all the way through. “I-I mean Checkers, sorry…” The dog's name was Checkers. Of course. And let him guess, everyone else’s names were about games as well?

“I personally thought it was a  _ pretty nifty  _ name!” The sleeping person said, her long chestnut hair braided only partly, a rather unamused clown mask on his face. Saihara glanced at the old lady, how she was just pleasantly smiling her way through all of this. Too many people, Saihara thought, and nothing is happening. “Ah- But that is easily the worst lie I have ever told. Hey Mr. Detective, move. I gotta clean your stupid mess now.”

“Sorry.” Saihara muttered with a confused look as they swept water out of the building, and then Saihara realized they were holding a mop.

“That was a lie. I really enjoy cleaning, right boss?” She asks, when she receives no comment, she shrugs and flashes him a smile. “The name is Jack, and yeah, I’m the only one using my regal name.” Saihara furrows his brows as he moves to Ouma and Ace.

“And my name,” Says the rounded cook, “is Rookie, though it’s Rook for the others and casuals here- Right Mrs. Scooterk?” The old lady smiles pleasantly at him before drinking some tea. “Uh- She’s mute.” Too much information.

“So… Rookie, Checkers, and… Jack?” Saihara asked. “That’s a lot of people working here. Around nine people and then ten if you include Ouma.” Saihara tpas his hand impatiently as they share a secret glance.

“Congrats Ouma. You’re officially special by being un-included.” Jack was the first one to speak, tilting her head and one hand with mop. “Also, I can see through your shirt.” Saihara glanced down. His shirt was wet, indeed, but it wasn’t see-through. So that was a lie.

“That may be your school uniform… Did you bring your gym clothes? You might catch a cold if you stay in that condition any longer.” Rookie asked, before waving to go to the kitchen, heavy steps falling to the ground as he smiled.

“Oh, do you have a bathroom here?” Saihara asked, glancing at a door to the far left of the shop, a neo light glowed above it. If Saihara had to guess, that meant someone was in it.

“Somebody is in that bathroom. You can use the upstairs if you want, Ouma’s room.” Ace suggested. And Ouma turned red. “I know he definitely wouldn’t mind having  _ you _ in his bedroom.” There is a small grin passed around DICE, and the lady pleasantly smiles as she sips more tea.

“Alright then, “Saihara decides to ignore that last part, “I’ll go up after Yonaga is done, or actually… I might change when I get to school. My house is far so I can’t go there even if I run so…”

“We can give you an umbrella.” Jack joined, opening the door. “Hello, welcome to DICE-”

“Bro, I got the body.” Momota smirked at Saihara, and if that didn’t sound bad, “Too bad I didn’t have the right weapons to- Ah, but you wanted him alive. You could have become my sidekick, you know.” He sounds thoroughly disappointed at that somehow, and Saihara shrugs.

“I um, somebody else joined me. Momota, you can leave if you want now. I’ll give you-” 

“Five dollars.” Momota nods, “The fight was too easy.” The cost was surprisingly lower than what Saihara thought he wanted, but he wasn’t one to care. There’s a small money exchange between the two before Ace speaks up, frowning. Momota tossed the body to the ground and glared back at him.

“Don’t do that infront of adults.” He said, brushing a hand through his red hair. “Hey kid, you’re a friend of Saihara, right? Here, I’ll give you two some free drinks before you leave, courtesy of Ouma. And that girl… Mr. Detective, you don’t have to help people all the time, or beat up people, you know. I won’t judge, I won’t judge, just don’t leave _ it _ here.”  _ Helping?  _

Saihara could laugh at that.

Small steps were heard from the stairs, and Yonaga was back, wearing a simple jacket and school uniform that didn’t quite seem to be her’s. Black skirt and shirt, going down to the knee’s like usual, a sailor-style collar with a red outline, matching Ouma’s school uniform a little. It was short-sleeved, he noticed, and strange marks were wrung around her arms, a little like how Harukawa would show up to school sometimes. No bandaids though.

“Damn, that’s cosplay.” Jack said, “Yonaga, was your name? Or something like that. Boss has some competition-” Momota glanced at her, looking up and down, and she stopped. H4e furrowed his brows before looking at everyone else.

“I…” Her voice sounded dry, and quiet. And she was still carrying that fucking Panta can. “Water.” Water. Water was what Saihara gave to her earlier, and she didn’t drink it.  _ Is there something wrong with her head? _

“And painkillers perhaps. She looks like she’s been in pain this entire time.” Saihara noted, and he turned to the body.  _ Black-masked _ . A woman this time though, strangely enough. And she wore black clothes still, medium height. “Hey Ouma, is  _ he _ awake?” Why Saihara asked him, because Ouma hasn’t talked much.

“H-Huh? Oh- Y-Yeah! But can we do that after school..? I-I just need a break, sorry.” Ouma said, “Oh, t-that’s a lie… Sorry, don’t worry.” Saihara wasn’t planning on it. Ouma’s eyes grew big like how a cat would and he gave Saihara a trembling smile, clenching onto the cloth of his shirt. “Do you want to..?”

“This body could be like, a fun tribute. Grow the collection.” Saihara shrugged.

Nobody commented on that except for Momota, who just smiled obliviously at what was even happening, saying something in some foreign language only Momota speaks and spouting nonsense.

They sorted things out after, about the black-masked person this random person just brought in. And that Momota should bring Yonaga to school after she eats. Everyone at DICE seemed to just accept it, for some strange reason, though Saihara wasn’t one to argue. It was like this as well when Clubs got attacked, they seemed more worried about something Saihara didn’t know.

Saihara went to Ouma’s room, which was strangely normal, the smell of something sweet and the smell of Ouma, it seemed. Some posters, bleary and hand printed probably, some art that seemed to be drawn by Ouma, splattered colors, and checkers, purple things everywhere.

The umbrella they gave Saihara was a Danganronpa one, ironically. How did these fans get kidnapped? And he needed to go check on his website, and what Danganronpa said in that tweet. Well, he means, if he wants to stay on top of things. He hates not being able to control anything.

“You had an umbrella this whole time, Momota?” Saihara asked, as Momota mindlessly sipped from the warm drink Ace gave to him, holding a bright red umbrella umbrella in his other hand. They walked aimlessly to the school nearby, or at least,

“Nah, that black-masked nerd was a good catch. She had a whole entire umbrella to herself and didn’t even try to share it with me even after I slammed my fists into her stomach!” He grins, staring at Saihara. “But hey- who is that small thing behind you?”  _ Small thing?  _ Ah, he was talking about the small boy with purple locks behind him.

Saihara thinks for a moment, “We’re… acquaintances. Met on the train.”

“Ah, I remember that! He’s that fucker that was asking for bandaids.” Momota nods fondly, as if it were a memory he should have remembered, “Nice to meet ya kid, the name’s Kaito Momota, luminary of the stars and ready to kill for money!” He grins, and Saihara would swear that if he felt that Momota was joking, he would believe it.

“H-Huh!?” Ouma said, a panicked look falling to his face. His face turns slightly blank. “A-Ah, sorry. I was t-trying to make a false e-expression…” Why?  _ Why?  _ Saihara brushed his fringe out his face as he thought for a moment. He stared up, watching the water splatter on the umbrella, the warmth of the drink sinking into his fingers.

“He’s Kokichi Ouma, somebody that works at that shop we just got these drinks from.” Saihara said rather blandly. He wondered just what he was expecting when these people would meet.

“Well- He looks cool, I guess.” Momota shrugged, like he wasn’t here. “Hey, Ouma, why do you have bandages all over yourself? Get bullied?” It was more like a pity question, and Saihara tried to ignore the mass spam of messages that Akamatsu gave him. “None of the guys I know ever talked about some low life small piece of shit.” Note of language.

“I-I’m sorry… I,” Ouma pauses, and Saihara sees a flicker of something else in his eyes. “I can’t tell you.” Momota glares for a moment at the air, and solemnly nods. “S-Sorry.” Nobody seems to care enough to say anything else, and Momota and Yonaga say bye as Momota exchanges phone numbers to supposedly get _ more cash out of him _ and Ouma to  _ get more food _ . Nobody argued much.

And then Momota led Yonaga to the bus, throwing the umbrella in the trash. Yonaga stared at a moment, a small whisper, and Saihara wondered if the school would still recognize her even with that uniform, not like she was even wearing one, with her yellow jacket in her hand. 

And then two teenagers were left alone, one holding a Danganronpa video and one with a small bandaid on one cheek. Saihara glanced at him, his wide purple eyes and trembling lips.

“Hey…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter is so bad. It sounds really rush and I'm so sorry. I've just had a small writing thing I guess, and I'm busy thinking about homework. Hey, if anyone wants to beta-read for me forever how long they want to, I guess you could comment or check my discord they can. :P, my discord is in my profile thing if anyone wants to check.  
> Here is the fully made poll:
> 
> ["Hey... Ouma, wanna have se-"](https://strawpoll.com/8xk67bhe)
> 
> Thank you to those three guests that kudos-ed! :3


	17. "Hey... Ouma, want to skip school?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then two teenagers were left alone, one holding a Danganronpa video and one with a small bandaid on one cheek. Saihara glanced at him, his wide purple eyes and trembling lips.  
> “Hey…
> 
> "Ouma, want to skip school?"

“Hey… Ouma, want to skip school?” Saihara said, yawning into his hand. Underneath the subway, water dripped from the sides, neutral lights from the top growing down on them as Saihara took another sip of his drink, eyes glowing grey to yellow and back as he stared at Ouma. Ouma, one bandaid on his cheek, one bandaid on his arm, a small bruise just below his finger, his purple hair bouncing when he turned to give a confused look at Saihara, wrinkling his nose.

“W-What?” Ouma asked, stuttering. “...Don’t y-you have to go to school..?”  _ Don’t you have school,  _ Saihara wanted to ask, but he didn’t. There was something about the fact that Saihara’s umbrella was shaking off water and how they couldn't leave without it meant that Ouma had to have considered his offer.

“Because we didn’t have a chance to discuss my website last time, and now that I seemed to be involved in whatever happened, we might now be able to talk about it today, later.” Saihara says. What he doesn’t say is why the body of the blue-eyed man wasn't anywhere when Saihara was up in Ouma’s room. “Plus, I’ve been getting bored of school. And the only people I’ve been getting to meet were… annoying.”  _ I couldn’t control them enough. _

“Oh!- U-Um,” Ouma stuttered, eyes falling down, “Y-You should probably go to school.” That sounded less like a statement than a question, “Y-You should…” It was hard to believe that the purple-headed buy could make any solid claims when he was stuttering this bad, his voice quiet.

“So, I got this comment from an anonymous person that I should host an online killing game.” Saihara continued, “My uncle should be at work right now, so you want to go to my house? And the walk there is pretty peaceful.”

Ouma hesitated, “B-But…” He seemed to have faltered a little.

“You could go if you wanted to, have the umbrella. But I’m bored, maybe I’ll go see…” Maybe he’ll go check some schools, Saihara thought, look up the names of everyone and see if any rings a bell. “But I would like it if you would come.” Saihara wasn’t sure if that was a lie. It was hard to tell with Ouma.

“O-Oh! I’ll go.” Ouma nodded shyly, looking unsure of what he just went into. “Um… Sorry for asking S-Saihara, but what do you mean by an online killing game?” He sounded partly interested, so Saihara shrugged.

“I have a small plan.” Saihara said, “Let’s start walking.” Out of the underground subway, small water splashes came from the sky, dropping down. Saihara opened the umbrella and held it on top of himself and Ouma. “So… If we take a left turn, and then go straight for a while, there should be this narrow street that has a bunch of shops-” Surprisingly, Ouma interrupts him with that fragile voice.

“A-And the bridge..?” Ouma asked, sounding slightly gleeful. He fidgeted with his sleeve and glanced up blithely. Saihara looked up at the umbrella, which seemed a little too small. He’d have to go to get himself his own when they pass the Triple Seven.

Saihara nods, “The bridge is on the left. So…”

The walk there is quiet, enjoyable due to the fact his schedule has been a mess lately, and too many people he didn’t know how to plan for. Warmly lit lights were hung around lanterns around here, and the bridge was near here, red wood. Some stands were here, noticing Saihara, recognizing him. When they were already near the house, Saihara guessed he forgot to get another umbrella from Triple Seven.

“S-So… This is it?” Ouma asked quietly, awkwardly twisting his hair with his fingers. “U-Um, pardon my intrusion.” He shakily stepped into the house, almost tripping the moment he came in. Quick glances around, his face turning a little pinker while Saihara shook off the water from the umbrella, taking his shoes off at the front. 

The house was quiet, like usual, and eerily loud when every step Saihara took seemed to be so much more noticeable than Ouma’s, as he hesitated to look around again. “You look like you want a full-on introduction house tour.” Saihara laughed, hanging the umbrella on the coat hanger since he wasn’t sure where to put it.

“I-I…” He didn’t seem to know if Saihara was joking or not, “I’d like that. O-Only if you want to of c-course...” Ouma glanced around again, taking in the pictures on the wall, the way the ceiling light lit the wall, how immediately after the hall there was an open area of doors and stairs, “Y-Your house is… b-big.”

“My uncle surprisingly gets a lot of money as he switches between working with the police and being a private investigator. My parents, you probably have never heard of them,” Because people from his website weren’t supposed to look his name up. “Also receive a lot of money to spare for me, so I tend to give it to my uncle.”

Ouma looked at him for a moment, a confused gleam in his eyes, and nodded very slowly. He seemed to have snapped out of it when Saihara tapped his shoulder, saying, “Here. I’ll show you around.” 

“Oh, y-yeah.” Ouma muttered, way too quickly.

Saihara’s house was two stories high, living with only his uncle and a plan to get a cat one day. It was white, unsurprisingly clean and unused, with few things that Saihara has added over the years. A kitchen with three seats too much, the last for him whenever he was younger. Saihara learned to cook when he was younger, somewhere around the age ten or nine. There was a phone in the corner room that Saihara would use to call his parents, since he doesn’t want them on his contact list. The living room next to that, and some locked room his uncle wouldn't allow him to enter. A separate bathroom and restroom. To the left was his uncle’s study, a small store room that had gifts from random people, and a piano room, because the people that last lived here said it was haunted and Saihara and his uncle that that was amusing, so now it stayed put, rusting up. 

“I probably shouldn't have shown you more than three of those rooms, but my uncle doesn’t care.” Saihara shrugs, walking up the stairs. “The second floor isn’t as big but my room could fit all the merchandise I have, so…”

Ouma nods, looking distracted as he pulls out his phone, the Danganronpa theme song humming at him. His eyes widen as he looks at the number, probably someone important to have called him in the middle of school- Or rather, them playing hooky. “O-Oh, I’m sorry, but I-I have to take this, Saihara.” Saihara pauses for a moment, before nodding, waving at him to go outside on the porch.

A moment goes by, and Saihara waits some more. After a while, Saihara hears loud sounds from behind the door, shouting it seems like. So Saihara...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm proud of this week's writing. I think the weekend's small break will really help me though since I think its because I'm more into writing the horror genre right now! :3. I don't really know why, it just sorta... happened. So, uh, I guess I might write a one-shot where everyone dies and a ghost follows them around, or give me ideas, I guess. YEAH, I WILL ACTUALLY WRITE IT IF IT'S HORROR and with Danganronpa characters since IDK. Also if anyone wants to beta read for me they can go look at my discord in my profile or type in the comments. So, uh, here's the poll:
> 
> [Saihara is agy](https://strawpoll.com/z5ey7g61)
> 
> Thank you to the two guests who kudos-ed! :3


	18. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment goes by, and Saihara waits some more. After a while, Saihara hears loud sounds from behind the door, shouting it seems like. So Saihara...
> 
> Saihara eavesdrops, leaning ever so slightly closer to the door, water splashing outside. Ouma’s voice lowered, though Saihara wasn’t sure how to feel about the next line, echoing loudly out the door with such a quiet voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update schedule is worse than my sleeping one, I'm sorry

Saihara eavesdrops, leaning ever so slightly closer to the door, water splashing outside. Ouma’s voice lowered, though Saihara wasn’t sure how to feel about the next line, echoing loudly out the door with such a quiet voice. “You’re such a fucking piece of shit, you know that? Absolute trash to be thrown in the shitting toilet. No wonder that fucking abortion of a father of mine wanted you gone.” Ouma hissed into however he was speaking to. Ouma’s father,  _ that was right. I haven’t met him yet… Only Ace and the people that work there? _

DICE was supposedly an inheritance from father to son, Saihara had to guess. In the letter, DICE was described as a small group of pranksters (And maybe, perchance a dog)… But Ouma, future Saihara’s Ouma also lied that it was a secret organization with around or above 10,000 people, which ties in subtly to the secret criminal organization called DICE that was treated like the mafia around here. And Ouma, this stuttering mess of words and confusion, could be connected- The leader, or rather the past leader of DICE, was still unknown, wearing a rather cryptic mask that resembled a dead clown, and that matched rather aesthetically with the cafe DICE.

Saihara continued to listen, leaning his back against the wall and playing with the cap he took off his head, a small smile coming to his face out of interest for a certain thing. Some mumbles, coming from the other side, and Ouma spoke some more, “Shut up. Shut the fuck up- Ah, but that’s a _ fucking lie  _ of course! _ Everything _ is a lie! You know what? I’m bored of you, so from now on, everything you say from now on is a lie, and if you dare tell me no then you’re not allowed to play with me anymore. And I know you don’t want that.” An abrupt change in tone. A subtle snarky sound at the end, cheery up-tone, and smiles all the way.  _ Fake. _

A pause on the other line, some rain dripping down, and Ouma spoke again, “Ah, that’s sooo boring. Well, my dear father wanted you gone anyway, so… you’re fired. If I see you at- Oh, hey Tsuki-chan! Yeah, tell that old bore he’s fired, and the reason I didn’t come to work you ask? Hm… I have better things than dealing with you losers, don't cha think?” Ouma pushed again, listening to whoever Tsuki was, and then spoke again, all calm and cheery like sweet venom, sinking into Saihara’s skin, “I’m… a fan of this guy. A huge fan, casual Danganronpa guy that seems to know something I don’t. He has a letter with  _ that signature. _ ”  _ Signature..? Ah _ . A click in Saihara’s head and he felt around in his pocket, a letter.

“I can’t hear you in this rain- You know, I love the rain? It’s so nice and watery and makes me wonder about water. But that’s a lie. I hate the rain. But you know what I really like?” Ouma paused, and there seemed to be shuffling from the other side of the door, a small click. “I just really like the color pink for some reason… Hey, you think if I come over to work right now, that you’ll shoot out pink rain?” A Danganronpa reference, Saihara notes. And suddenly Saihara feels like barging into their conversation, for… fun. 

Saihara gathers up what he has now learned. Ouma seems to have a job, and he just so happens to be the boss, where he can fire people at a single command. He seems different than what he was usually, with a more… Future Saihara’s Ouma’s theme.  _ Ironic _ , Saihara thinks,  _ everyone I’ve met does seem to have a hint of their past personality and talent, except Yonaga, who I haven’t seen at work yet… She still seems faithful to a god though. Akamatsu has a rather different personality, but she still has her piano talent. Momota seems to be interested in space and has a rather similar personality and Ouma… We’ve just confirmed.  _ God, he sounded like a spy agent.

The door snapped open, and Saihara charmingly at the stumbling Ouma, stuffing his phone into his pocket and shyly smiling back, his eyes blown-wide and the corners of his mouth trembling. Quite different from what he was sounding like. “Are you okay, Ouma? I’m afraid that you were starting to get cold here.” A funny thing, lies were. 

Ouma paused for a moment, devoid of any emotion and turned to a blank slate, and then snapped back to reality a second later, a shaky look on his face. “Y-Yeah! Sorry… Was I-I too loud?”  _ And Ouma also talked about something with my letter.  _

“Yeah, I heard you from upstairs yelling at someone. Wouldn’t expect that from you.” Saihara hummed while Ouma silently got in, and every time Saihara’s eyes flickered yellow to Ouma’s, Ouma seemed to look away.  _ Ironic. _

“So this one guy asked me to make an online killing game,” Saihara explains, like it's the most casual thing ever. “And now I'm trying to wrap my head around how to do that.” It’s flat, simple words that make Ouma pause for a moment.

“K-Killing game..? Well, if it was online, it would have to be hosted in tweets… Perhaps, you should vote for t-thing? S-Sorry, my h-head really isn’t working.” That sounded like a lie, as Saihara could literally see the wheels in his head churning and twisting.

“That could work… Perhaps then, I’d ask for them all to meet somewhere in real life and we can have a small game thing- Ah, but where would he have it..? And how would we do the killing? The killing should be handled by-”

They continued talking about simple things like this, the usual Saihara things he talks about, the clock ticking and some small music in the background that Ouma thought would lighten up the mood when Saihara didn’t seem okay. Before they know it, they have to grab some food Saihara has to prepare, and he realizes he should go to the grocery store on Sunday. They have a simple talk between the two teenagers, and the clock ticks closer to where they should end this. At the very last seconds, Ouma congratulates him on this fake New Year and asks,

“Sh-Should we go see if..?” They both knew where this sentence was going, so, therefore, there was no point in ending it. Ouma was shuffling to clean up the mess of bottles he made, while Saihara just nodded.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do.” That was a blatant lie. Harukawa has been calling him, ever since school ended a few minutes ago, asking where he has been. Saihara’s been ignoring her, and he isn’t sure why, he just has been. Even though she was his friend (his only friend), who has stayed with him since the beginning of middle school, Saihara was simply _ ignoring  _ her. Maybe it was because of the fact he didn’t want to talk to her, as all the other future Danganronpa participants he has met seemed to have at least a wink of their talent in the game, or maybe it was the fact she just kept on coming to school with more bruises, more bandages to stick on, and Saihara thought they would stop being there if he stopped looking.

Saihara laughed to himself while Ouma continued, saying something fuzzy about going with him, something about black-masked men, something about Danganronpa, and for some reason he wants to throw up.  _ Must be the food _ . Saihara found this all too amusing and followed behind Ouma, as quiet as one would hope.

Ouma looks at him, purple eyes big and everything, “Are y-you… You don’t look okay, Saihara. A-Are you sure you should g-go today..? We, we can move it to Sunday...” Ouma’s voice falters at the end, and Saihara gives him a smile. _ And that small shaky smile is a lie, _ Saihara can tell.

Saihara opens his mouth, feeling a little sick, but he could handle that. “I would like to…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! and yeah, you might've noticed I posted that gift fic that I talked about that you probably don't remember. It's a really bad horror story with self-insert that I know some people hate, and I made it for a really cool person! :3 God that is one happy tone. Also, if anyone wanted to beta-read for my, please let me know in the comments. Thank you and have a good day everyone. here's the poll:
> 
> ["W-What if I put my knife next to your's... hah aha, just kidding... unless?"](https://strawpoll.com/fezgyc93)
> 
> Thank you to the seven guests who kudos-ed and Auppexx- What... Auppexx!? Nice to see you here, Auppexx! It's always nice to see you somewhere around here. :) You are always welcomed here- God, that sounded creepy, I didn't mean it to.


	19. "I would like to go today."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara opens his mouth, feeling a little sick, but he could handle that. “I would like to…”
> 
> "I would like to go today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm having a stroke. A writer's stroke. Why are you reading this? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.

_Don’t glare, don’t glare, don’t glare_ — Shuichi Saihara overheard Ouma’s conversation with those intrusive rats, and he was lying. Lying like a fucking liar. And Ouma hated liars- Though, he guesses that was a little hypocritical. 

But who cared if he was being hypocritical? Ouma means, what does being a hypocritical even hold? Do people really think it’s worth not to say something, to add something, to hate something, just because others think they’re breaking rules that their own self never set up? He thought back to the Danganronpa post, and clinked his fingers against himself.

Whenever Saihara lied, he glanced at Ouma, straight in the eye, without a quivering voice, much more serious than he was before. And after he would fickle with his hair if he thought it worked, and look as though he were deeply thinking as well.

As pretty as Saihara was as a boy, it was rather annoying how he barged in in the middle of the start of school and dragged him away, to go do some Danganronpa stuff. Don’t kid Ouma, he does like that stupid website that somehow went noticed by the Dangnanonpa Company, but that wasn’t the reason he purposlessly went to talk to him on the subway.

He had that _envelope_ , with that signature on the front.

“I would like to go today,” Saihara said, his cap not doing a very good job on covering his eyes, a flicker of gold before it turned back grey, Ouma’s purple eyes reflecting back into them. “After all, wouldn’t it be quite a dick move if I didn’t?”

He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, so Ouma granted him with one, his voice still stuttery. _He hated the way it sounded._ “Y-Yeah!” Ouma eeped. He probably looked pathetic, and tilted his head back, looking at the pictures on the wall. _Saihara… with a red-eyed girl, and is that his uncle?_

Weird.

“Let’s go back then,” Saihara shrugged, “And… it sounds like it stopped raining. What school do you go to, Ouma?” A question. The detective asked him a question, and Ouma flinched. “Ouma?”

“Uh- I… I’m going to High School next year, but I go to that middle school near- um…”

“Middle school? And here I thought that uniform was for High Schoolers. How old are you?” Saihara asked. Asking something about his age, _it’s almost like he knows._ “I thought you were the same age as me.”

“O-Oh! I am, my parents… My dad, I was um, this is a little sore subject for m-me… Sorry.” Ouma said, clenching his fist. It wasn’t his fault his dad did _that_ to him when he was younger, or that he didn’t go to school until he was 11. At least he was a fast learner… Ouma suddenly felt like puking.

“Sorry.” Saihara said blandly, a little too distracted with cleaning up his room. “Hey, you want to get some Panta-” An instant nod, and Ouma blushed, “You… do? I thought it tasted horrible. Yonaga seemed to be holding it as well. Hm.” Yonaga. That girl with a milky chocolate skin color, and bleached hair.

“I-I really like it, personally!” Ouma stutters, forcing a smile to his face. Saihara flashed him a look, fluttering his eyes..? Something weird.

“You like sugary things,” Saihara notes, and that’s true. He laughs for some reason, and a genuine smile comes to his face, and Ouma tries not to smile back. “I’m done cleaning, so let’s go.”

* * *

Still handcuffed, hands behind his back, his icy blue eyes glared at Saihara, and Saihara only stared back. He was silent, thought definitely not a mute. Saihara knew how this went, from his uncle’s vivid descriptions. But that’s not how Saihara was going to proceed with this.

“So…” Saihara started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: _Looks at the strawpoll_ "No change. Ugh... I have to write the chapter though."  
> Me the next day: _Looks at strawpoll_ "No change? I have to have my friend vote then, because I really can't deal with this.  
> My friend: _Tries to vote_ "FROG ITS CLOSED, BRUHserhysr"  
> Me: _Look at strawpoll_ "Oh ****."  
> Here's the uh- _Look at strawpoll_ Strawpoll!:
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/sdagps53>
> 
> And also, thank you a lot to the five guests who kudos-ed! Sorry if I got the number wrong, I just really don't do that math whenever someone kudos-ed. In fact, I wouldn't mind it if nobody else kudos-ed ever again- But I'  
> m not allowed to say that, as a writer here. :'3


	20. "Who the fucking hell are you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So…” Saihara started.
> 
> “Who the fucking hell are you?” Saihara asked casually, leaning back into the couch that was set in front of the icy-blued man, and he grimaced when Saihara pulled out a phone, crossing his legs. “I could keep you here forever, you know? I hope you don’t mind starving, and now..."  
> Saihara pauses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can indeed confirm I am having a writer's stroke. The writing doctor that I wrote to life told me so. I may have to take a small break to rest from and get surgery to solve my writing problem. Perhaps.

“Who the fucking hell are you?” Saihara asked casually, leaning back into the couch that was set in front of the icy-blued man, and he grimaced when Saihara pulled out a phone, crossing his legs. “I could keep you here forever, you know? I hope you don’t mind starving, and now…

“You have a friend. I’m not sure whether to say congrats or to shove water in your face.” The icy-blued man growled, dangling the clinks of his cuffs. By his side, is a handcuffed woman, as well, wearing all black just like him. The woman tries wrestling herself, but to no avail, and Saihara can’t be suddenly amused.

No wonder he claimed the title as the Ultimate Detective- The crumbling looks on their face, fading into silent glares was making— Saihara wiped off the drool below his lip.

Ouma looked at him, and then back at the cuffed black-masked fakers. “S-Saihara, that’s a little… W-We can still give them water!” No food then, and Saihara shrugs at him, a sigh coming from Ace behind him.

“Mr. Detective, that’s not going to-”

_ It will, just wait _ . Saihara thinks,  _ because torturing normal people puts quite a toll on them… Ah, that does sound a little strange now that I’m thinking about it.  _ “We could always sell them in the red light district. I know a place from my uncle’s files.”

“T-That’s…”

“Or perhaps, Ouma, you want to play good and bad cop with me. I could bring a gun and you could bring some water.” He furrowed his brows at the strangely excited Saihara, “Maybe we could make them eat a living rat and have them barf it up only to eat it again! How do you think-”

“Look kid, I don’t think we should do that.” Ace said, grimacing.

“Or we can play russian roulette with the pancakes.” Saihara said, his eyes wide and a gleam from grey to yellow. “Toss some pure fluorite in it, or gasoline, and accidentally start a fire in the police station after we put them there.”

“No...” Ouma shouts, a horrid look on his face and his eyebrow twitching. “...Just…” He turns to the men, bending down from his seat. He was small, his purple hair protruding outwards and his eyes with an innocent look. Ouma looks up at the captured culprits. “...cut their hands off.”

“N-No!” Hearts yelled out behind them, “God, you guys are soooo unromantic. Just- Stop talking about killing them! We’re here to ask them questions for Clubs, aren’t we?” That was a very good question, and Saihara nods solemnly.

“We were?” Spades asks as yell, tilting his head before blushing, seemingly embarrassed that he forgot. “O-Oh right… Ugh, why can’t they just speak!?” One of them, the girl, opens her mouth but promptly shuts it.

Everyone- Everyone in DICE, including Sanchatso and a detective’s nephew- is crowding in the upstairs living room of DICE, where Saihara thinks Ouma lives with Ace, watching very carefully with their eyes every twitch the captured made.

“Yeah, what the fuck?— I mean, these shit heads can’t even understand a question even I know!” Cusses the youngest member, and nobody even spares him a glance with his foul mouth. “Answer Mr. Detective!”

“Woah, calm down there, Clubs.” Queen says, sitting somewhere far in the back, “And Ouma, don’t go so close to those things. They might try to bite you.” Like a dog on a leash, and Saihara holds back a laugh.

“We-” Breathes the woman, the way she spoke reminding Saihara of Nagito Komaeda, an actor for Danganronpa, breathy and out of air, “We won’t tell anything.” Saihara tilts his head at her, and he can see his reflection in her eyes, and Ouma. And for a moment Ouma reminds him of Komaeda, with that crazy look in his eyes.

“Aw,” Ouma pouts for a moment, before snapping back to that stuttering mess of a character he was. “W-Why not..?”

The icy-blue eyed man glared at Clubs, hissing something at him, “You..! You’re supposed to be dead!” His eyes widen, and Saihara can feel himself going crazy just by looking at him— Ah, too late, he already was. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…” He looks down, a strange look flashing on his face as the woman hisses at him. Though something is strange. And it all sounds like bullshit.

“Dead.” Bishop repeats, his voice flat, “What the hell did you do, Clubs? You, uh-” He glances at Saihara before shuffling to Clubs, whispering something into his ear. “Now go down, and hang out with Mrs. Scooterk.” A command, and Clubs obeyed.

“Could you tell us more?” Ouma asks, and holy shit— for a moment, Saihara swears he just saw the shy teenager flutter his eyes. “N-Not to s-sound rude…”  _ You clawed a full-grown man down, you can be fucking rude to that same guy when he tried to stab your friend.  _ Saihara didn’t open his mouth.

Their mouths remained a straight line. And Saihara spoke up, “So they’re saying that he should be dead, yet you clearly wanted to bring him somewhere, as well as not hurting him too much and his friends to prove my point. You’re simply afraid of the police. Your words and actions are clashing with each other.” It’s outrageous, but isn’t that life?

“Oh! Mr. Detective!~” Jack laughs, “In his natural habitat, threatening to kill people and sell them. Hey, Hearts, what you gotta think about that?” Hearts shrugged, and looked back to the people on the non-existent stage.

“Are you saying that they’re purposely trying to throw us off? That’s a little far-fetched.” Bishop- Sanchatso, whatever he went by, mutters.

“You tell me.” Saihara agrees. “Because of that. That must mean they are pretty loyal to their boss, or are being threatened. Though I doubt that they’re being threatened, as a normal person wouldn’t try to knock out a middle schooler, or go this far not to say the truth-” 

“What if we are just being blackmailed really hard?” The woman asks, still breathless. Maybe she gets afraid from being cornered by this many people. “You ever think about that,  _ Mr. Detective? _ ” She eccentricities the detective part and Saihara smiles at her.

“That’s a lie.” Ouma mummers, eyes reflecting into the woman’s. “You’re a really bad actor… H-Huh? Sorry, I didn’t m-mean to insult you.” Saihara wonders how this is like his future self’s Ouma but also his Ouma, and that seems like such a strange thought it makes him light-headed.

“Ouma’s right.” Saihara nods, “You most likely dressed up as the recent black-masked cases in hopes of capturing Clubs, or perhaps… Ouma, have you ever heard of DICE?” Saihara pauses, turning his eyes turning gold to the purple head in front of him, those wide purple eyes shaking a little, and Saihara feels like fidgeting with his hat.

“D-DICE?” Ouma stutters, a confused look on his face, “That’s the name of t-this caf-”

Ace scoffs, “Ouma doesn’t know about that weird underworld gang. No. I raised him correctly, you know? I’m not going to let him know about something where they do drugs, and stuff.”

“That’s a lie.” Hissed the man, his eyes glaring into Ace’s cartoon-ish mask. “This motherfucker knows damn well his position in DICE.” His words seep through Saihara’s skin, and Saihara ponders for a moment.  _ That means... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I can indeed confirm I am having a writer's stroke. The writing doctor that I wrote to life told me so. I may have to take a small break to rest from and get surgery to solve my writing problem. Perhaps.)  
> So hey- Uh, to that one guy that makes faces in the comment, you're doing great on the expression, I just don't see the acting! In acting (That thing, whatever it's called), you're only allowed to say, yes, yes, and yes! And where is that power behind your voice!? (God I'm so sorry I didn't sleep tonight and the first thing I did when I got out of bed was write this.) Here's the thing! I totally didn't forget what it's called!:
> 
> [Apple sauce is gae](https://strawpoll.com/784d8wxs)
> 
> Thank you to WindsOfWisteria, and to the eight guests! Winds of wisteria... That kinda sounds familiar but i live under a rock with a peephole so i have no idea what that means.


	21. The Leader of DICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This motherfucker knows damn well his position in DICE.” His words seep through Saihara’s skin, and Saihara ponders for a moment. _That means…_
> 
> _Ouma has something to do with DICE, the secret organization._

_ Ouma has something to do with DICE, the secret organization. This shop, which Ace says Ouma will inherit, has the same name as DICE, which is awfully strange if I think about it… They must want to capture Clubs as a hostage, because they didn’t kill him, and this icy-eyed guy seemed too hesitant to harm somebody. He’s a little too old to be going to middle school, but I doubt it’s because he’s not smart enough- He came up with s0ome pretty great ideas when we were planning the online game. _

_ Hm… The truth has yet to come out yet.  _ Saihara pondered for a moment. “Tell me more, won’t you?” Saihara asks, leaning a little bit forward, eyes flashing yellow again like a predator ready to catch its prey. “Who is Kokichi Ouma?”

The guy looks up, and grits his teeth, a stiff smile coming to his face, almost as though he thought he had the upper hand. “What?  _ Boss _ didn’t tell you about himself?”  _ Boss.  _ That word replayed in Saihara’s head, and something shattered inside.  _ The inheritance of DICE. I need more evidence to conduct a solid theory, but… I have something to think about later. About the future Saihara’s Kokichi Ouma and how much of it was a lie.  _

“Don’t you dare call Boss  _ Boss _ !” Spades shouts, “He’s not- He’s not part of your..!” Queen shushes him, and Spades abruptly covers his mouth. King glances at Saihara, and Saihara smiles politely. King doesn’t smile back. 

“S-Spades… Well…” Ouma stutters, crossing his legs, as he sits back down next to Saihara, his eyes glancing up at the grey-eyed boy and then back into his hand, a band-aid stuck on. Saihara gave them a knowing stare, eyes sharp. “W-Well, now we know who sent them.” His voice went smaller than a whisper.

“DICE, then?” Saihara asks, and he seems to be unwelcomed in that area. “Oh, don’t worry. I could care less about opinions. I’m just here because I’m… bored. Huh, I must have grown bored of-”  _ Bored of hope and despair in three days.  _ Saihara taps at his knee. “something.”

“Saihara…” Ace starts, “can you leave for now? We got them to start talking, so thank you for helping. But this is a little personal and you’re…” What? Saihara is a freak? Saihara isn’t close enough? Saihara’s uncle is a detective? What is it they want to hear? What is it Saihara should say next? Should Saihara just give up and talk to Ouma like a normal person? Should he just consent to disagreement? Saihara furrowed his brows.

Too many choices to choose and his head felt like it was spinning. Saihara wondered if this was how his future self felt- will feel when he has to make decisions, choose which person he’ll trust, to build upon anxiety that he supposedly talked about in the letter? IT all sounds so boring, to simply pick and decide and lie and tell the truth and hope and despair about silly things like the death of people he never knew, to try and live for no reason. Saihara tilts his head to Bishop, standing there with crossed arms.

Saihara sighs, “Well, I already have a theory that Ouma is the inheritance of DICE, as frivolous as that sounds.  _ Oh _ \- And Ouma, call me once you realize you need me.” He says it like he knows it, that they’ll need him in the future, and Ouma’s glare simply can’t pierce his skin. 

He politely smiles back and waves, fumbling out the crowd to walk down the stairs, and he wonders about his theory, waving Clubs a bye and amiably telling Mrs. Scooterk,  _ whoever she is, _ to have a good day. The bell rings on top of the door, and he leaves quietly, in peace. The weather is suitably nice, and the cold wind touches his skin.

He walks over, over to that corner where a multitude of shops are, a multitude of colorful hanging lanterns and a red bridge, wishing paper drifting into the river and Saihara takes off his cap- presumably the same as when he will be in the game, and looks out to the bridge. He should go try to hang out with Akamatsu more, and try to hang out with Harukawa- She doesn’t like to be alone, to feel left out, and as her friend he probably did that to her.

Saihara sighs once more, deep and laid his arms across the bridge’s railing, some bird poop on the line. He looks across the bridge for a moment, and Saihra swears he saw himself, with those bright golden eyes and with his navy hair and his too long eyelashes. That Saihara looks like he’s weak, and useless, and can’t even do anything.

Saihara blinks, and that Saihara is gone. Only him, himself, and his hat was on the bridge, waiting for nobody. A smile came to his face as he strolls back to his house. Because  _ that Saihara wasn’t him. It was some artificial Shuichi Saihara that should never exist. _

Saihara finds his position interesting; As he turns the corner and reaches his house, a black cat stares at him for a moment, waiting just beside his house despite the fencing his uncle tried so hard to place in a certain way to leave them out. The cat purrs when Saihara rubs his head, and checks the cat’s collar.

_...Hoshi Ryoma,  _ **_XXX-XXX-XXXX_ ** _. _

The cat’s name was Hoshi Ryoma..? Or perhaps that was the owner’s-

Saihara smiled, finding that he now had Hoshi Ryoma, the Ultimate Tennis Pro’s phone number. Luck was truly on his side, or perhaps that was just the perks to being a protagonist in the future. Protagonists truly have a butterfly effect on the planet.

The cat itself seems to look well-fed, but not entirely an outside cat as it seemed to trust Saihara a little too much, or maybe all cats were like that, Saihara never noticed. The cat purred some more into Saihara’s hand before Saihara let the cat in, and it seemed more than glad to come inside.

“Wait… Why isn’t this locked?” Saihara muttered to himself out loud, and glanced back at the gate to the front yard of his house. He furrows his brows and looks inside.

It’s quiet, the thumps of the cat’s paws hitting the floorboard, and the silent breaths of Saihara could only be heard, and Saihara wanted to laugh. It smelled flowery, almost, and a faint scent of sugar- Though Saihara is pretty sure that is when Ouma literally rubbed himself into Saihara’s bedsheets when he was over. And a thunk came from one of the rooms to the left.

_ The piano. _

Kaede Akamatsu somehow got in, and apparently, this wasn’t her first time if he remembers correctly. Saihara takes a step forward and shuts the door as more notes play, and it becomes a peaceful melody. And it sounds wrong in a world like this.

His uncle doesn’t seem to be here yet, he noticed, so Akamatsu must’ve broken in, and from the door. Did that mean she could lockpick? But he shouldn’t assume as much. Saihara takes off his shoes and wanders to where they have a piano, barely ever in use as his uncle can’t play and he finds that learning such a meticulous thing is not as interesting as others may argue.

A powerful slam of the key all of a sudden and the cat dashes upstairs.  _ It’s only 4:56 PM,  _ Saihara thought,  _ so I could spare her a minute. But I also need to call Ryoma to have him take his cat, he may be stressing out… He was the Ultimate Tennis Pro, wasn’t he?  _ Saihara needed to search up recent tennis prodigies.

“Akamatsu?” Saihara asks, opening the door. The person is indeed Kaede Akamatsu, in that blue school outfit and leaning over the piano, furiously tapping the keys like her life depended on it. That was true, in a way, how her life had to cling to the piano to live the average human life, and even then she would never be able to as the  _ Piano Freak.  _ Someone sat next to her, his pale green eyes looking up at Saihara.

_ Somebody new.  _

“Ah, hello there. Are you perhaps the owner of this house?” Green hair, matching eyes, a pale gradient of the color of fake grass, his ear tipped with silver earrings, and a stylish necklace hanging from his neck. He wore a… He wore a dim blue jacket, matching Akamatsu’s outfit, and the same colored slacks, a red tie wrung like a towel, a white buttoned-up below. A normal high school delinquent sort of look and Saihara can’t comprehend how anyone would be able to allow such an outfit into their school.

He looks eerily similar to the Rantaro Amami described in the letter. And Saihara is almost sure he is.  _ Well, nice to know I just came home from the Ultimate Supreme Leader literally clinging to me and then discarding me like toilet paper, coming home to a black cat from the Ultimate Tennis Pro and the Ultimate Pianist and past- first future protagonist broke into my house with her friend that looks descriptively like the Ultimate Survivor and is currently playing the piano the last people that lived here abandoned.  _ And if Saihara wasn't lying, it was pardoning amusing. At least to the future Ultimate Detective that is listening to an unsigned letter that was resting in his pocket.

“Nice to know that you broke in from the door.” Saihara joked dryly, “Why are two of you here?” He didn’t sound tired, but his voice was rather hollow, and almost as if it couldn’t bother to fill itself with emotion. 

“Oh!” Akamatsu stops, her finger just dragging along the keys of the piano, and she puts a bag on top of the piano, and Saihara isn’t too sure if that’s safe, especially when the bag was slowly falling. “Hey, Shuichi Saihara. Welcome home.”

“Hello, Akamatsu. Uh- Why is somebody else here?” He paused, And why are you here?” It wasn’t as much of a question as a test description waiting to be answered, but hey? What does that matter? 

She tilts her head, her dull pink eyes flickering something, and she smiles, a grin showing on her face as though boredom couldn’t even decipher how she felt. “He’s an acquaintance! I was feeling so hopelessly bored of watching the ticking clock I called him over. Which, by the way, I do not support the fact you brought somebody over! That makes me feel so,  _ so  _ lonely.”

“Kaede told me she was getting married so I just had to see the poor man.” The rather similar appearance of Rantaro Amami told Saihara, sitting in a rather strange position for a chair, hands leaning on the top rail. “Hey, he’s pretty cute. I thought you were getting married to Saihara.”

“I am! He’s Shuichi Saihara.” Akamatsu pouted, and supposedly, by the way they were acting Saihara would have wondered if they were close. 

“Ah- I guess I should introduce myself,” Saihara says, rubbing his thumb over the bill of his cap, still resting peacefully in his hand. “I’m Shuichi Saihara,” He glanced at Akamatsu, “Whenever you do that funny trick, do you ever come in my room?”

Akamatsu shakes her head, though Saihara can absolutely press  **X** to doubt. “Nice to meet you all- I’m Kaede Akamatsu.” The strangely enough guy that looked peculiarly similar to Rantaro Amami furrowed his brows, as though he couldn’t believe it.

“You already introduced yourself the first time-” It was in sync, and Saihara and Amami look at each other, before Amami continues, “Nice to meet you. I’m Rantaro Amami, and I humbly apologize for the horrible person next to me.” He smiles, and something on Amami’s face darkens when he does. 

_ Rantaro Amami… I wonder, if he actually has twelve sisters. _

“I’m not horrible, it’s just that everyone else is just so  _ boring. _ Humanity is just like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode while the minds of society break out of focus.” Akamatsu says disinterested, scratching at her fingernails. Unlike Ouma’s, they’re not bitten, but neatly cut and painted with a pink color. “You like them? My sister did it to me.” She points to the scratches across her arm. She gives him a wide grin.

_ No comment. _

“So I’ve heard about you, Saihara.” Amami continues, ignoring as Akamatsu pouts at him. “I thought you were, like, that detective or something. The famous one.” Was his uncle really famous? That didn’t sound too right, but Saihara just shrugged. This topic was a bother, and all he wanted to do right now was to see what that cat was doing.

“I’ve heard about you too, Amami.” Saihara simply says, and Amami raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look too deep into it. I remember you from…” Saihara pauses, “Nowhere, really. I guess I just felt like saying that.” Amami laughs at him, and Saihara glances back at the stairs, where the cat walked up from.

“Hey, Rantaro Amami and Shuichi Saihara.” Akamatsu says, full names included, “Did you see that new Danganronpa post? The one where after like, twenty, ten years they’re starting it up again, starting the killing game again?” Saihara glanced at her, and she pulled out her phone, looking at it.

“Are you a Danganronpa fan?” Asked Amami, to Saihara, he supposes. “Well- Guessing from the fact you have a Danganronpa website, I wouldn’t say no to that.” Saihara wasn’t going to say no,  _ thank you very much Amami. _

“What does the post say?” Saihara asks, placing his hat next to the bag slowly slipping off the piano.  _ Momota had no reason to lie, so I suppose that I have a clue, but he wasn’t too specific so it would be hard for me to know. _

Akamatsu glanced at Saihara, something red flickering in her eye. The eyes of the protagonists, her voice goes flat. “Why? You want to join? I wouldn’t recommend it y’ know. You’ll leave poor, lonely, bored me all here in the cold depths for the reaching soars of this flaky humanity.” She appears to whine, but if Saihara didn’t know any better he would say that she was speaking in poetry.

“Not particularly, I seem to… Ah- How should I phrase it?” Saihara gives her an apologetic smile, and Amami watches as though it were the most interesting interaction scene in his lifetime. “I seem to be quickly losing interest in Danganronpa now. I was thinking that maybe this would help me get back into it, as they did take a sixteen-year break.” It was almost as if Saihara was taking another bite of a rotten cookie that was going to make him sick. Well, too bad. He was already sick.

“Ah, well, I hypothetically would  _ never  _ join Danganronpa, because as tempting as it is to shove in everyone’s face that they’re as boring as the fucking grasps pulling us down to hell forsaken, It would just be so _ old _ \- It’s  _ so _ not the trend these days.” She says in her sing-song voice, crossing her legs. “You know, Shuichi Saihara?”

“Shut up, Akamatsu. Nobody cares about your opinion.”  _ Didn’t he call her by her first name the first time? Why did he just change it?  _ Saihara tilts his head. Amami turns to Saihara, smiling in an almost shy way. “I would join Danganronpa if I had the chance. I even put a format online a few days ago and I’ll go to the thing in around… a month? November 13th, close to Christmas.”  _ This… didn't the letter say something about how Rantaro Amami participated in the last killing game as well?  _ Suddenly, Saihara’s ears perked all the more.

“That’s so boring, Rantaro Amami.” Akamatsu whines, and Amami punches her shoulder. Saihara pulls the bag on the piano up as she continues, eyes shifting between the two teenagers. “The post said how this time, it will be a real-life _ killing game, _ where we would all go along our lives and everything.” Those words felt hollow in Saihara’s head.

“And apparently, instead of a poll or luck or whatever, they’ll interview each contestant that they carefully searched up about and see who’s worthy. Though people are still leaving participant sheets, like this avocado over here. The government’s been going wild to try and stop them.” Akamatsu explains.  _ So they’re forcing people to? That is indeed illegal. And here everyone has been wrapped up in the black-masked cases spread across Japan. _

Saihara laughs, “This is certainly something Danganronpa would do. It’s not like it matters whether they do it in real life or not anyway, since the virtual reality couldn’t stop any of the dead participants from dying in real life.” Only one. But nobody talks about him. Since he’s bizarre and broken and his personality was always too messed up and too clever for his own good, his talent somehow extends into real life. 

_ Nagito Komaeda. Thirty-five years old and living.  _ He outsmarted the fucking system before he even knew when he got his memories removed. All the people in the first two games were a little too smart for their own good, Saihara knew,  _ their flaws barely influenced them enough. _

“Yeah.” Amami nods. He pulls out his phone as well, and snaps a quick picture of Saihara, before smiling at him, his face back to that dark look. “Well- Kaede and I should leave now. Bye!”  _ Back to Kaede again, not Akamatsu?  _ Saihara stared at him for a moment as he sat up, his hand gripping on Akamatsu's shoulder forcefully. 

“Wh _ aa _ t? We’re leaving already? But I didn’t even get to talk to Shuichi Saihara enough, RAntaro Amami, you motherfucking piece-”

“Yeah, bye Saihara! Akamatsu left you a gift on the piano by the way.” Amami waves, still smiling. “And- I hope you get in Danganronpa with me. Wouldn’t it be fun if we had to kill each other?- I apologize if we stayed too long.” Saihara doesn’t say  _ bye _ back.

_ Huh.  _ Saihara thinks to himself as the door shuts behind him and there’s a crinkling sound upstairs, supposedly that black cat that was also supposedly Hoshi Ryoma’s cat. “Well,” He says to himself because it’s normal. Normal to talk to yourself and smile to yourself and think things to yourself out loud. Saihara doesn't care what others say about this topic anymore, after all. “time to go.”

There aren’t any choices to choose from. Just plain, simple execution, and Saihara is the executioner, following as the unforeseen is taken into place and killed swiftly for greater effect. The unforeseen, Danganronpa’s sudden start-up with the black-masked cases to the large effect of the kidnapping that will supposedly happen in a year. The unforeseen, and slaughtered by the state of law, the law being that  _ it’s all just too interesting, becoming boring much too fast. _

Saihara wants to savor this feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _In my head_ *: There... should be at least some more plot, and the story is going too slow, which means that this may take a little more than a year to complete, but if I...   
> So you know how this fic is supposed to help me with my writing? 1,000 words a day? What if... I make it 1,500? Then again, I have like, one two-shot in the works and other requests, then I have other stuff to do in RL. Hm... My head, I'm not really sure what to. And also, have a picture of a cat instead of the poll:
> 
> Thank you to, uh- Let me go check. Thank you to the seven guests and the Wandering_River! Did I get that right? Yeah, I think I did. Probably... I hope.


	22. Hoshi Ryoma, the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Ring, ring, ring. _
> 
> “...Hello? Who is this?” The voice is gruff, and clearly apparent to that is the voice of Hoshi Ryoma. When Saihara looked his name up, a few websites featured the same person’s name and something about their social media. Though there were really, only pictures of his cats on there.
> 
> “Ah- you picked up. I was afraid you wouldn’t… Um, your cat is at my house and I’m not sure if you want me to bring it back or..?” Saihara sounded confused to his own self, a little fake but that was fine? It’s not like he was trying not to act like himself, it was out of force of habit.
> 
> “Oh.” Ryoma pauses, “Tell me your location.” So Saihara does, and then-
> 
> The call ends. A small  _ click  _ when the cat rubs against Saihara’s leg.

_ Ring, ring, ring. _

“...Hello? Who is this?” The voice is gruff, and clearly apparent to that is the voice of Hoshi Ryoma. When Saihara looked his name up, a few websites featured the same person’s name and something about their social media. Though there were really, only pictures of his cats on there.

“Ah- you picked up. I was afraid you wouldn’t… Um, your cat is at my house and I’m not sure if you want me to bring it back or..?” Saihara sounded confused to his own self, a little fake but that was fine? It’s not like he was trying not to act like himself, it was out of force of habit.

“Oh.” Ryoma pauses, “Tell me your location.” So Saihara does, and then-

The call ends. A small  _ click  _ when the cat rubs against Saihara’s leg.

* * *

There was something biting into the back of Saihara’s head, clicking and clattering and following him around like a tiresome ghost prepping to kill itself all over again. Eyes on the back of its head, surrounding Saihara like an invisible cloak running out of air for Saihara to breathe.

Inside the plastic bag, which Akamatsu gifted to him, there was a… Saihara quickly threw the gift away. His uncle didn’t come home tonight, as expected. He seemed to be rather busy with work again, or perhaps doing something else. “Hm…” 

Saihara groaned into his pillow, and quickly showered to go to bed. It was quiet in the house, and that black cat was still here, resting on his bed when he was rubbing his hair with a towel. He thought for a moment before taking a quick picture and laughing, laughing at himself, or laughing at the strange feeling he felt as he did. It wasn’t unwelcomed.

He quickly changed into some clothes, clothes he didn’t care much for, so it was fine to wear by himself.

“I should go…” Saihara muttered to himself, falling back into his chair, “I should probably go to sleep.” That was right. He should, since he was starting to feel like someone was watching him strangely enough, something important in the back of his head that he wouldn’t be able to figure out. He wasn’t in the right mind. 

Saihara glanced back at the cat, and sighed as he laid his arms over the table. His grey eyes flickered yellow again, he could see in the dark, where the light of the moon seemed to shine in only a little. He was probably being stupid, wasn’t he? For believing a letter just for fun. Hypothetically, if it was true, then why was he even getting kidnapped..? 

His thoughts drifted away when he paused for a moment to think about life.  _ It would be so interesting if I didn’t stop the killing game. Hm… Wouldn’t that be fun? How would that feel? Would I change into another self or would I stay the same? Would I… die? Hypothetically, if that was true. It would be so boring if I ended with a good ending. _

Saihara shut his eyes, tight and tried not to smile. He had the worst thoughts about these types of things when he was alone, and that wasn’t an understatement. Not like it mattered anyway, since they were just the normal things for Saihara to ponder about when bored.  _ Things have been getting interesting for these past few days, so I can only hope that lasts. _

A yawn came out of Saihara, and suddenly, when he blinked, he was somewhere else. A dream, a thought? Something along those lines. Someplace dark, and eerily familiar, almost a serene way the wind seemed to be blowing around, and a flickering lamp. A… woman? Or perhaps a man. The air suddenly grew tense, and it almost felt like it was choking Saihara, wrapping hands around his neck.

_ Don’t. _

The light illuminated a warm light, and it almost felt… gooey, perhaps even normal. The distant thoughts of Saihara seemed to disappear, and he shut his eyes when the person, certainly human, smiled at him, stretching across their face like glue.  _ Don’t. _

Something- Someone, a clatter in the back of his head, a small whisper, or maybe even someone watching, behind him, something was there. He couldn’t turn around for some reason, almost as if his body went stiff all of a sudden, something stopping him from moving.  _ Don’t. _

“You…” The voice started. It was cruel, distant, taunting him for the reason he couldn’t seem to breathe anymore, and panic ran through Saihara’s head like a lightning bolt. Then it went soft. He could hear the fluttered of a bird outside, something shifting and suddenly, something cold touched his cheek.  _ Don’t. _

It was a hand. A freezing, poisonous hand so close that it could simply wrap around his neck and make him run out of air. It could break him, or it could stop him. It could pierce its fingernails into him and jut his stomach with blood. Saihara could feel it, chipping up to his eyes. There was a bandaid on it’s finger, or something a little rough.

_ Don’t. _

“Shuichi Saihara,” It whispered, like it was a prophet. It went in a little closer, and… it hugged him.  _ Don’t.  _ “Shuichi Saihara, please open your eyes.”  _ Don’t.  _ Saihara’s eyelids fall further, “Do… you remember yet?”

Saihara’s eyes flash open. The voice fades away, the clattering in the back of Saihara’s head fades, his thoughts falling into a peaceful grumble.

And it’s a new day, the sunlight shining dimly through the window and something soft is combing his hair, and Saihara swats it away, furrowing his brows. Saihara’s back was sore, and he was leaning on his desk. A black cat, yellow eyes, matching Saihara’s. It meowed high-pitched.

Ryoma’s cat was still here.  _ Hungry _ , Saihara thought. The cat was probably hungry, now that Saihara’s head was a little straighter. He smiled politely at that cat, wondering how Ryoma would feel if Saihara broke the cat’s bones.  _ It’s so cute. _

“Hello.” Saihara said, “Should I give you-” 

_ Ring, ring, ring. _

Saihara shifted his eyes towards the phone, still in the clothes he changed out of yesterday, rumpled to the ground. In his striped gray jacket, he pulled it out to see Ryoma’s name.  _ Huh.  _ “Hello?” Saihara asks, the cat rubbing against his cheek as he sits back down.

“I’m here.” In his gruff voice, there’s a whiffing sound on the other end. And the call abruptly ends on the other side.  _ God- It’s like four in the morning, and my uncle is probably still in his study. Couldn’t he have arrived less early?  _ It’s not like Saihara had school today. Today was a clear Sunday.

Rushing to change out his sweatpants and an old shirt his uncle got him, he swifted on a white T-shirt, and put on some black jeans. It wasn’t like he had any better clothes. He really had no interest in this stuff unless it corresponded with what he was interested in. Luckily, he didn’t go flying down the stairs as he opened the door, his face probably slightly red from rushing.

There, a short male was at the gate, waiting near the front yard. The doorbell was clearly never rung, as his uncle never went to the front door and let him in (His uncle does that sometimes, letting strangers in. One time, somebody came in with a gun and rang the doorbell, his uncle letting him in before telling Saihara to grab his gun. That story did not have a happy ending for that man, ending in prison for two years). Ryoma glanced over, a tad smile on his face when he saw something next to Saihara. 

“Hello Ryoma. I- um, I can go feed your cat with some cooked fish in the fridge, but I’m not sure if I should since it might make an, er…” Saihara awkwardly laughs, and looks at the weather. It was still a little dark, clouds covering the rising sun, and the air was a little cold, but it was nice. “What I’m trying to say, is that I did not feed your cat.” He quietly put his slippers on, and clicked the gate open so Ryoma could come a little more in.

“That’s fine. I can always feed him when I come home.” Ryoma pauses, and Saihara really sees him now. He’s shorter, shorter than Ouma, and his fingers are less nimble than Saihara would think for the supposed Tennis Pro. And he’s wearing a cat-ear shaped hat, as well as a leather jacket that has a cat face sewn on.  _ Ryoma is a clear cat lover then, but… He doesn’t seem to be as interested in tennis. But that’s strange, since everyone that I’ve learned more about seems to have at least one thing corresponding with their Ultimates. _ “Come here,  _ Hoshi Ryoma. _ ”  _ What? _

Saihara glances at the cat, and before he knows it, the cat is elegantly walking over to Ryoma’s arms, and climbing into him when Ryoma wraps his arms around the cat. “I apologize on the behalf of  _ Hoshi Ryoma _ . He gets a little frisky like that in the morning.”  _ Ah, he named his cat after himself. _

“Say Ryoma…” Ryoma looks up at Saihara, pitch black eyes wide. “I, um, have two questions. Does  _ Hoshi Ryoma _ , your cat like to play tennis perhaps?” Ryoma paused for a moment, petting his cat, and silently nodded.  _ That’s fucking- Okay.  _

“And also…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know how Ryoma's (I call him Ryomi in my head and I don't know why so it really fucks with me when I type it) character is literally the weirdest character in Danganronpa? Yeah. Yeah, I just wanted to remind you guys because in this, he's a
> 
> In this fic, they live in Japan. And that takes on Japan tradition and stuff, except I don't know much about Japan. I know that some schools are now making in mandatory again to have school on Saturday, which is why Saihara's school has school on Saturday (And is mandatory, so he did skip something important.) I also know that there is Labor Thanksgiving and culture day, and more. But if anyone knows any more about Japanese tradition, I would be very thankful! :3 Here's the poll:
> 
> ["And also..."](https://strawpoll.com/37zy4bk9)
> 
> Thank you to Fictaflare, and the two guests who kudos-ed! Here's a picture of Ryoma.


	23. "Could we chat some more?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Say Ryoma…” Ryoma looks up at Saihara, pitch-black eyes wide. “I, um, have two questions. Does  _ Hoshi Ryoma _ , your cat like to play tennis perhaps?” Ryoma paused for a moment, petting his cat, and silently nodded.  _ That’s fucking- Okay.  _
> 
> “And also…
> 
> "Can we chat some more?"

“Can we chat more?” Saihara asks, glancing down at the cat. It seems to be purring, though Saihara isn’t sure how Ryoma is holding iit in his arms.

Ryoma glares at Saihara for a moment, before going on to say, “No. You have my number if  _ Hoshi Ryoma  _ ever comes again, but anything else, I won’t fucking care.”  _ And I get rejected.  _ Saihara shyly smiles back at the glare.

“Haha… I guess I’ll see you later then?” Saihara waves, but Ryoma doesn’t respond, taking his cat away. “Haha… Well, future Saihara, guess we won’t be talking to him anymore.” Nobody says anything back while he closes the gate with a clink and goes back up to get dressed.

Saihara glances around his room. It’s small, but he supposes it’s enough room when all you need to do in it is sleep and dress. A single bed barely fitting two people, his uncle told him it would be enough, and a window on top, halfway closed halfway open. A desk has scattered pens and extra credit work he finished, his laptop, tucked near the corner with his dresser. There was a grey rug that Saihara liked to think on, though Harukawa has told him that he’s too much like a cat so he tries not to.

_ Harukawa… I hope she’s fine. I haven’t given her any band-aids yet and she… She probably doesn't care anyway. Harukawa has other friends and a boyfriend, doesn’t she?  _ Yeah. That was right. She was a young woman that could function by herself, so it would be fine.

He changes his socks, because it’s the only thing he has to do, and wraps his jacket around his waist. His jacket, matching that cap always on his head. His uncle gave him them, because when he was younger it helped him calm down since his girlfriend when he was younger gave it to him. It was pinstriped, striped with a lighter grey. Simple, something his uncle and him liked in common.

It was still somewhat near four, so he was right about the time. Saihara took a deep breath in and went back downstairs. Quiet, but he knew his uncle was probably still awake working on some case that Saihara has heard of before. The clinkering noises of the pans as he started to warm up some leftovers most likely echoed around the house, and as Saihara picked up his food, the sounds of munching were almost irritating.

The clock ticked and when it was around five, Saihara decided he should probably head out.  _ If I go around this time and get the groceries, there won’t be as much of a crowd, and then if I come home by six, I can start working on my site. After that… I should be able to- _

_ Ping. _

Saihara glanced at his phone. A message from Momota, and Saihara decided that perhaps he should mute his phone. It was too early to be dealing with people like that, and as interesting as it seems to be…  _ I just fucking woke up, and today is Sunday. Don’t I get a break? _

Saihara pondered if he should go call Harukawa and see if they should hang out, but quickly declined that thought. He was probably busy anyway, doing something else. “Hm… I better go grab the groceries.” Saihara set his phone down and stretched. There was plenty of time for him to relax anyway, so why should he rush his life?

Saihara paused to look inside the mailbox. Nothing, as it is supposed to be.

A sudden thunk, and Saihara sighs. He finds it impossible how crude his uncle’s wake up schedule was. His uncle was most likely up now, trying to warm up something in the microwave, even though Saihara explicitly told him not to use it as it needed to be cleaned. That loud thunk was most likely the loud explosion coming from the microwave.  _ He better fucking clean it. _

Another school day, Monday. October 14th, three days have already passed, and now he is on the fourth. Saihara groaned,  _ I should go… get ready for school now.  _ It was a miracle the school hasn’t called him out for wearing his cap yet, and he wanted to keep it a miracle, so he stuffed it in his bag. The school uniform, a simple white button-up, a tie, a suit jacket, and pants. Saihara wished that they would really just force him to wear a Gakuen like normal schools.

The mailbox, nothing inside. And Saihara clicked his tongue. Saihara tightly held onto his bag, in his pocket the envelope, and Saihara paused for a moment. Was he expecting something? Was he really expecting another envelope? He laughed at himself.

“Well, I should go to school now, or uncle Sygnomi is going to yell at me.” Saihara says to no one in particular. “I should go…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that part where Saihara puts on his socks, I accidentally spelled, "He changes his cocks-" LIke bro. Good thing I saw that or else I might have died. Also, if anyone wants to tell me Japanese tradition or send me a link to something informing, that would be quite helpful. I'm sorting out chapters right now and when Saihara will meet this character and when the choices should be. The less important days will be shorter, which is why the first three days seemed so long and which is why this will probably take me more than a year to complete if I decide to! There are two votes today so please vote for both of them, and thank you very much:
> 
> [First vote](https://strawpoll.com/7e2yxgb9) and [Second vote](https://strawpoll.com/949f2z7x)
> 
> Thank you to Mary_the_Flamingo and the guest. Mary the flamingo... flamingos are noce.


	24. The Train Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, I should go to school now, or uncle Sygnomi is going to yell at me.” Saihara says to no one in particular. “I should go…”
> 
> “Let’s go by the train again.” Saihara mutters under his breath, and a child runs past him. Probably one of the neighbors, since they were always up early in the mornings. The air is somewhat peaceful, other than the people awake at this time, and the sounds coming from all the places around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\(//OwO\\\\)/ Thanks.

“Let’s go by the train again.” Saihara mutters under his breath, and a child runs past him. Probably one of the neighbors, since they were always up early in the mornings. The air is somewhat peaceful, other than the people awake at this time, and the sounds coming from all the places around him.

He gets on the train quietly, and glances around. They seem all so busy with their own lives and yet so sad. Saihara ponders what would happen if somebody suddenly collapsed here, and what would happen. Would they panic? Would they notice? Would it even matter in the end what they did? Sahara laughs to himself, and doubts that other people heard. There’s that blue-headed girl again, an empty spot next to her patiently waiting to be taken, but Saihara doesn’t recognize anyone else familiar. Was it because Saihara was taking the early train? 

According to him, he would be arriving at school an hour early since he decided not to walk… Saihara shrugs to himself, pulling out the letter again. And again, nothing else to examine but words and words of his handwriting, describing the future following events that could happen to him. What was he expecting? Something neat and nice telling him that,  _ hey! You’re going to end up in a knife fight in around one day now, so grab a bat and swing it at the person to your left in order to stop that.  _ Yeah, Saihara doubts that’s going to happen.

The subway screeches, and it comes to a sudden halt. Saihara shifts the letter back to his pocket and walks out, the crowd pushing him a little back. He swears he sees the supposed Tsumugi Shirogane look at him, with a glare, until she turns back and rushes over to the other area, where the shops laid.

Saihara begins walking, but he really isn’t too sure where. He knows he should go to school, but it’s tempting for him to just leave, to just go to some other school and pretend that he’s a student there. It feels cold, while Saihara stops at his shoebox. 

Saihara glances behind him, only to see everyone talking to each other like there wasn’t a freak in the school. Maybe he just thought that someone was watching him only because it always feels that way… Saihara groans to himself, opening his small locker.

Inside are more bright red roses, stuffed inside with a green plastic cover.  _ Hm… Too bad I hate roses, though don’t they know that if they show signs of hate they should just put Chrysanthemums on my desk or something?  _ Saihara almost wants to laugh at how bad a job the person is doing, but he doesn’t, because he sees something red in the corner of his eye.  _ Harukawa. _

“Ah! Harukawa… Finally, you’re here.” Somebody, appearing as a girl, waves at her. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t appear from what happened Saturday.~” The girls in that group giggle to themselves, and Saihara assumes that they’re Harukawa’s friends.  _ I think that perhaps I should just give her bandaids later. _

Harukawa sneered her eyes,a dn Saihara noticed she lost his bandaids. A wound on her neck, scrapped in like a cigarette mark, and marks around her fingers and hands.  _ Perhaps I should have brought more bandaids,  _ Saihara ponders. “It’s…” Harukawa’s voice is quiet, though it’s clear to Saihara that she’s mad about something. She probably got in a fight with her friends. 

The girl in the front glances over at Saihara, and she smirks, her cheeks turning pink like she was embarrassed. “Hey Saihara.” Her voice went weak, and he wonders how to respond to that, and the girls behind her giggle some more. Saihara glances over at Harukawa, whose eyes turned blood red.

“Uh… Hi.” Saihara shyly waves, eyes staring at them for a second before grinning at Harukawa, fidgeting with his bag, “Sorry, I forgot your name.” Probably because he didn’t bother with learning such a boring person’s name, a voice perks up in his head. The girl’s friends giggle some more.  _ That would be rude to say to Harukawa’s friends.  _ “Have fun with your friends, Harukawa! And hey, if you want to hang out I have something to show you.”  _ The letter.  _ Saihara has surmised that whenever he tries to speak about it, nothing would come out his mouth, so he has decided that the safest person to test it with would be Harukawa.

Harukawa, gritting her teeth and clenching onto her bright red jacket. “Saihara… Just go, won’t you?” She sounds mad. Is it because…  _ I didn’t let her play hooky with me. Probably, what else could it be? _ Saihara glances at the roses in his shoebox.

“Alright, Harukawa. Though make sure you talk to me during lunch!” Saihara sweetly smiles at her and takes the roses and throws them away. A public display to say he doesn’t fucking care if someone is trying to discreetly bully him. It’s not like they can do much anyway, since his parents are famous. Saihara doesn’t care if someone gives him plentiful of roses.

There’s some more talking in the main hall before Saihara tunes it all out and arrives at his classroom Study Hall.  _ Boring.  _ Saihara already finished his homework long ago, and they call him into the Teacher’s Lounge, speaking fuck that he already knows, how they know he’s a good student and is just being affected by Harukawa, or someone he doesn’t even know, and more lists of names he can’t remember. They release him as long as he just smiles, eyes glaring, and lies that he won’t do it again. The rest of the day goes by quickly, Harukawa gone missing.  _ She’s probably playing revenge on me for not inviting her,  _ Saihara thinks for a moment, and then laughs at himself, since she probably wouldn’t do that because the world doesn’t spin around him. Everything is so boring, he finds, as the day goes on. Harukawa doesn’t come to him when it turns lunch, and some other people try to bother him,  _ annoying _ , and the clock ticks 1 PM. The Homework Club still has the usual people, some boy that gets bullied try to speak to him and the teacher trying to get him to communicate more. He couldn’t skip Art History since the teacher caught him.

Saihara sighs, twirling the hat in his hand around and around. Somebody leaned towards him, and Saihara sighed again, flickering yellow eyes staring straight at them and- “Hey, Shuichi, my bro!”  _ Oh fuck, it’s Momota. _

He glances around, only to see that everyone is just staring at him as though he were a monster, and he stares back when they turn away like they were innocent. Only the usual guys here…  _ So then why the fuck is Momota here?  _

“Hello Momota.” Saihara says, furrowing his brow for a moment, but simply shrugged to himself at the end, “What are you doing here?” Momota’s grin widened.

“Eh, well Sanchatsco said you were at this school, and I was bored so… This is the conclusion!” He told Saihara, “Hey- Want to hang out with me today? I need some money and it would be really helpful if you would just, y’know?” Saihara tucked his cap back into his bag, tilting his head at Momota for a moment. “You can decide where we go. As long as you pay.”

Saihara pauses, and Momota continues, “It’s a win-win, isn’t it? You like hanging out with me and I get money for hanging out with you- The cost for hanging out with me this time is… Let’s see. Somethin’ around ten dollars.” He smiled at Sahara and glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him. “And I'll give you your homework.” Before Saihara can blink, Momota snatches the paper away and tucks it harshly into his pocket.

Saihara sighs, putting a smile on his face, “I guess we can go to…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY IM ADDING THE BIRTHDAYS TO THE LIST WE CELEBRATE THEIR BIRTHDAY IN THIS. AND HOLIDAYS. IM GOING FULL WAY DOWN THIS ROAD AND I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY TRY TO COMPLETE THIS AND DO IT SINCE THIS HAS REALLY HELPED ME WRITE 1,000 WORDS A DAY EVEN THOUGH IT HAS BEEN LESS THAN A MONTH.  
> HERE'S THE POLL. ALSO, THE PLACE IS JUST THE SECOND VOTE TO MAKE SURE THAT EVERYONE WANTS SHIGUJI? SHINGUJI, THE VOTERS SAID SHINGUJI THOUGH IM JUST DOUBLE CHECKING, IF YOU GUYS DECIDE ITS NOT ONE OF THOSE THINGS, THEN WERE GOING WITH KORK. Okay, here's the vote! :
> 
> [apples are gr8](https://strawpoll.com/fdb73rb2)


	25. The Flower Shop next to DICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara sighs, putting a smile on his face, “I guess we can go to…”
> 
> “To that flower shop next to DICE- Ah, that shop we went to on Saturday, in case you forgot,” Saihara says, and Momota furrows his brows at him. “For context, recently, I’ve been getting flowers in my locker- Roses, to be exact.”

“To that flower shop next to DICE- Ah, that shop we went to on Saturday, in case you forgot.” Saihara says, and Momota furrows his brows at him. “For context, recently, I’ve been getting flowers in my locker- Roses, to be exact.” Momota opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it.

He carefreely laughs at him, smiling like it was a joke, “You- You’re too great, Saihara.” He says, laughing in between words. “Yeah. You gonna find the girl that gave it to you?”  _ Or boy _ , Saihara decides not to say that. “Let’s do that, let’s do that. Find my Patreon a girlfriend.”

Saihara didn’t particularly care enough to say no, since he had no one on his mind for now, nor did he plan on doing what Momota said. If Saihara sees a way to mess with his parents with someone interesting, then so be it. That’s just what he’s going to do. And if he falls in love, then he’s just going to tell the person and leave. The concept is quite boring to him.

Saihara laughs, and when the teacher, who seemed to recently have been asleep, yells at Momota, who only smiles at him and tells the teacher it’s fine. The teacher, who has only just woken up himself, gets ready to start something to ask who the fuck was threatening his students, they run for it- Or well, it’s more just Momota pulling Saihara around, while Saihara rushes to stuff everything in his bag and not question why he’s here.

“So hey,” Momota starts saying, when they turn a corner and DICE is ahead, the flower shop next to the shop Saihara is probably unwelcomed to go to. “Not to pry, because I could literally care less, but what did you do to that body I beat up for you? Cause these fists don’t do anonymous shit, ya get me?” He raises his fist, grinning.

“Yeah, I get you.” Saihara doesn’t, “It’s because lately there have been numerous cases of a black mask guy going around, and the police are trying their best to catch as many as they can.” Saihara explains, “Let’s avoid that shop for now.”

Momota pauses for a moment, eyes following Saihara’s indifferent ones, “Oh. Okay then… Uh- Anyways, why’re you so… What’s the word? Cold? Detached?” Momota tilts his head to look at the sun clouded by clouds, stuffing his hands in his pocket. His space jacket that Saihara has never seen him in, both sleeves on.

“Apathetic.” Saihara tells him, “Unless you’re looking for a different word. Hm…” He smiles at Momota, “Because there’s nothing to be different about.” Saihara glances at the flower shop, which the lady in front- It’s Mrs. Scooterk. Mrs. Scooter sitting in a chair in the flower shop, looking out the window and pleasantly smiling at nothing.

Saihara pauses, before continuing to walk while Momota runs over, waving at her like a familiar friend. “Ah! Hello, Mrs!” Momota stops, hands on his hips with another wide grin. “Me and my friend-”

“My friend and I, actually.” Saihara corrects, just to add to the conversation. “We’re here to ask you about if there has been a recent order of roses over and over, the same person.” Mrs. Scooterk smiles, sitting up from her spot and dusting her clothes off from something that Saihara can’t see.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” She starts, brushing her cheek with her fingers. “Now, I can’t go announcing my customers, can I?” She laughs to herself, before her body threatens to fall over while she goes into her store, sitting behind the counter. “Can I get you boys anything?”

Momota smiles at her, hand stuffing itself in his pocket. “Nah! The only guy here paying is this little punk over here. We really only came here to find out his secret admirer.” Saihara winces at how Momota seems to really believe it’s some secret admirer. It couldn't be, since he was a freak. Why would anyone like someone like that? Who knows.

“Oh!” The lady says, “If it’s just then…” She pleasantly smiles, lifting a finger, “If you two buy one boutique for each, I’ll show you the name of the person, and only that.”  _ That’s rather… She has to keep her business running, I guess. _

“Uh- Shuichi, my bro, you’re the person payin’ right?” Momota asks, leaning towards him and eyes trained on Mrs. Scooterk. He shouts louder, seemingly ready to talk to Mrs. Scooter. “Yeah, we do that! I’m going to get one and then we can solve the case of which girl’s crushing on you!” He grins, like it’s the easiest thing to think about.

“Uh… sure.” Saihara nods.  _ Maybe it would be more fun just to let him get fully involved. I don’t really care if he wants to involve himself or not- I suppose he does by the way he’s acting- I am paying for these flowers though… With him, I certainly will be spending a lot of my money.  _ Saihara groaned out loud like a weirdo before smiling politely at Mrs. Scooterk.

Momota entered the shop, although there wasn’t perhaps a door to enter through as there was only a window, barely going up above the plants on the table next to the chair Mrs. Scooterk was sitting in. Saihara doesn’t know how she could sit out here with this cold weather.

It’s almost as though Momota and him are friends, out here searching for flowers to give to someone, although Valentine’s was in a few months. Saihara almost wants to laugh at that as he picks up one of the flowers lined up on the walls.

“Hm… Any recommendations?” Saihara asks, and the lady strolls over to him. “Uhm… Don't you recognize me, by the way, from yesterday?” Mrs. Scooterk only smiles back when she says that last part, like she knows something Saihara doesn’t.

“You want to give the person giving you the roses something back, right?” Mrs. Scooter questions. Saihara doesn’t respond.  _ Who am I giving it to..?  _ Saihara tilts his head for a moment, thinking to himself. “Let’s assume you boys are giving it to your crush. Hm… What color is their hair? Or... what is their favorite color, along those lines?”

Momota shrugs in the corner of Saihara’s eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe someone with brown or black hair… Y’know. The usual Japanese color.” Momota continues, “Maybe… Red. I like the color red.”  _ Momota, she was asking about your crushes hair color not what color you like, dimwit.  _ Saihara decides not to say that.

“Someone with…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add a backstory that involved flowers, and it was either Shuinguji or Harukawa, or someone close to their thing, so I chose Harukawa. Yes, the roses have something to do with Harukawa. And no, I'm not spoiling in the story so it may or may not be her flowers. Also, when I went to sleep last night, I realized that you won't meet Chabashira before her birthday, so now she doesn't have a celebrated birthday. I should remember to mention it though just in case.
> 
> Here's the- Uh, let me remember what it's called again. I don't know how I keep forgetting but I do. (God I love flower language):
> 
> [Yeah](https://strawpoll.com/fdr2pksh)
> 
> Thank you to two guests who kudos-ed. I hope i did the math rite.


	26. A Purple Hair Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Someone with…”
> 
> “Someone with purple hair.” Saihara simply says, tilting his head at the flowers, “I don’t really care if it has a meaning, just something nice to look at.” It wasn’t like he was there to give an overwhelming, heart-pounding boutique of flowers to somebody. Saihara glanced at the white shop next to the flower store. _Something purple. I must really believe in that letter then, to worry about something so small like a blob of purple._

“Someone with purple hair.” Saihara simply says, tilting his head at the flowers, “I don’t really care if it has a meaning, just something nice to look at.” It wasn’t like he was there to give an overwhelming, heart-pounding boutique of flowers to somebody. Saihara glanced at the white shop next to the flower store.  _ Something purple. I must really believe in that letter then, to worry about something so small like a blob of purple. _

_ Ha. _

“Hm… Well, if you say so, dear.” Mrs. Scooterk says in a rather fidgety manner, shifting with a bundle of flowers. An arrangement is formed, and Saihara glances over. Perhaps, it’s not as calming as Saihara though it would be, as no signs of white smoothed the palette out, but it was certainly pretty. Rather doleful flowers drooping, marked with yellow at the very inside and blooming purple, a similar flower, marked with yellow inside yet more rounded petals, softly centered with a long stem surrounded by pale yellow flowers. There seemed to be another flower, which Saihara recognized. A purple tulip.

“Uh- Thank you.” Saihara thanks, and glances over at Momota, who’s grinning at Saihara like he just won the lottery. Saihara could feel his own face dim a little when Momota opened his mouth, 

“So you  _ do  _ have a crush, you heartless motherfucker- Shuichi, bro!” He says, and raises a thumb, “Who’s the lucky girl?” Saihara just simply decides it would be best to let Momota believe whatever he wanted.  _ Won’t it be just dandy when he learns I don’t have one?- Ah, but then again, he probably doesn’t care. _

Saihara turns back to the old lady, “What are these flowers?” He asks, not because he is interested, but because it might be fun. There’s no particular reason, really. Maybe because he’s bored, maybe because he isn’t, maybe because this scene feels all so familiar and yet he can’t place his finger on what- why, how this is happening.

“Ah, the flowers.” Mrs. Scooterk starts to explain, “This one is a… a purple iris, the one with the fringy petals, which is meant to mean a compliment, and then the one similar to that-” She points to the other flower with the yellow insides, “is a pansy, symbolizing thoughtfulness. And then the purple tuli, which is common knowledge to be known for remembrance, and the one next to that, the stem with all these yellow flowers, is a golden rod, encouragement. There’s a lot of different shapes and things to look at here, so I do hope that secret admirer of yours doesn’t get too overwhelmed.”

“Ah- the person is not my secret admirer.” Saihara clarifies, “I mean, they’re… they’re-” Saihara glances over at Momota, listening.  _ Hm…  _ “They’re more special than that.”

“What a playboy.” Tsked the old lady, and Saihara wanted to spit out water. She puts back on a smile, “And how about you, Astro boy?” Saihara feels like Momota would be offended by that. But he just turns around with a huge grin on his face and a bundle of flowers in his hand.

“Oh! Don’t worry, lady, I got all the flowers I need! Hey, hey, Shuichi bro-”  _ First name again _ , Saihara tilted his head at him, glancing at the bundle. Different floods of colors of tulips all together, Momota gripping onto them rather tightly. “Doesn’t this look like space?” Momota’s smile widens.

“Uh…” It looks like flowers. “Yeah, sure.”

Mrs. Scooter stops for a moment, before sighing and going back behind the table. “Give it here boy, I’ll wrap it up for you. Do you want to know the meaning of the tulips though?” Momtoa pauses, and his eyes widen.

“These are tulips? Wait- Flowers have meanings? That’s a thing?” Momota asks, as though he has never heard of such a thing, “Then again, I remember Gram said somethin’ about that.” He puts his hand to his chin, as though deeply thinking.

Saihara decided that perhaps Momota didn’t quite know a lot about flowers. Mrs. Scooterk wrapped up the flowers in the clear paper and gave Saihara the cost, and Saihara paid as simple as that. It was… surprisingly more than Saihara thought it would be, but he could still afford it. The name of the person that kept on giving him roses was unfamiliar, “ Suki .” 

_ A girl, though I can’t quite recognize that name… That must be a rather boring and useless person then. Not worth acknowledging then.  _ Saihara thought to himself, glancing at the flowers he was holding. He could throw it away later, butit cost a surprising amount so… Saihara sighed.

Right at the door, when Momota stepped out, Saihara glanced behind himself and Mrs. Scooterk waved at him, saying, “I’ll say hi for that purple boy for you.” 

“I thought you didn’t remember me.” Saihara simply says to Mrs. Scooterk before shutting the door, not glancing behind himself even once. Momota asked him where they should go next, and Saihara thought for a moment before saying they should hang out at his house, because Saihara really didn’t want to pay for anything else.

His house isn’t too far, but they still take the underground railway. The place is loud, people talking to each other in their air,  _ Momota talking a little too loudly in mine _ . The ride is bumpy, and there’s something secretive to it. When they eventually get to Saihara’s house, somebody is at the gate, waiting at the very front, keeling and covering their face. A girl’s next to her, patting her back with a blank look on her face.

A dark red jacket over her school uniform. Maki Harukawa, crying, sitting there, and Saihara for some reason feels a little down when seeing her like that. She doesn’t look up, she doesn’t try to move, she’s just crying, silently with her head down. Pale blonde hair with a blue school uniform. Kaede Akamatsu. 

Momota starts to run up to her, eyes a little wide. “Hey! Hey, are you okay? Hey- Shuichi bro, get over here. Some girl is crying at the front of someone’s house.”  _ My house, to be more correct _ . Saihara thinks blandly to himself, but he won’t say that yet.

Akamatsu looks up, and that empty look on her face, eyes flickering red never left her. She’s holding Harukawa’s hands, and Harukawa’s eyes are bloodshot- more than they usually are. She looks up at Saihara for a moment. “Shuichi…”  _ First name, something new _ . She doesn’t finish it, looking back down.

Momota glances at Saihara, “You know her, Shuichi, bro?” He furrows his brow, bending down. Saihara doesn’t say anything, sitting in front of Harukawa, trying to look her in the eye in one of their silent conversations. Except now, she can’t seem to hear him in the silence. “Hey… Do you want my flowers?” Momota offers her his flowers.

“I… Who are these people, Shuichi..?” Harukawa asks, and her eyes are a bright red. 

Saihara pauses, “They’re…” He doesn’t know what to say. Are they his friends? No, they’ve only known each other for a few days and even they don’t seem to want to be his friend. Are they strangers? No, considering what Saihara knows. They’re…

There’s only one choice for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This vote is metaphoric for the story, okay? God, I really am getting lazy with the votes. Sorry for all the new people, and all the regulars. Apple sauce eats the dog went boom, yeet:
> 
> [ Thank you to the thrite guesses! :2](https://strawpoll.com/xpk4f36x)


	27. " T̷̨͠h҉e͢͏̢͟y҉̴'̸͢͏r̴̢e̷̢͝ ̡͠͝p̵̶̴̸̡ę҉o̧p̢͟l̶̵e͏̴̢ ̴̛͟҉Į̕ ̡w̴͜i̛̕̕͜s͝͞h̸̕͜͜͠ ̸͟͡͡t̶̢͝o̸̷̕ ̸͟͏b̴̷̧e̵͝͡-̴̕͞͞-"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara pauses, “They’re…” He doesn’t know what to say. Are they his friends? No, they’ve only known each other for a few days and even they don’t seem to want to be his friend. Are they strangers? No, considering what Saihara knows. They’re…  
> There’s only one choice for this.
> 
> But it's not the choice he'll choose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is just me going, "Hey, fuck the votes because I'm bored and I'm not sure what to make of the votes."  
> Sorry ~~not sorry~~

“I don’t know what they are.” Saihara explains… There’s something strange about this answer, but Saihara decides not to think of it. This is what he was thinking after all, so why would it be strange? Saihara isn’t exactly sure why he was doubting his answer. “I met them a few days ago.

“Hey Harukawa, do you…” He pauses, and glances at Momota and Akamatsu, “Uh- Can you two please leave for a moment? We’re… She’s my friend.” Akamatsu pauses for a moment, before sitting up without a word. The two strangers, one head purple and one head blonde, glance at each other. “You can go in the house, um- the gate is open.”  _ My uncle always tends to leave it open. _

Saihara doesn’t see them as they walk in, starting to mutter to themselves. Momota’s flowers which Saihara paid for laid by Harukawa’s side.  _ A girl with black or brown hair he said, he liked the color red he said. That’s laughable. _

“Maki,” Saihara says to the crying girl.

The crying girl doesn’t look up, her voice shaky as she wiped away her tears. “I-I… I thought you would help- I.. I thought you were my friend, Shuichi..!” Saihara doesn’t speak, “I-I… Why didn’t you help?”

Saihara tilts his head at him, eyes showing clear confusion. “What are you talking about Maki?” There’s something she knows and he doesn’t, that’s normal. There’s something she’s afraid of, something that she dreads. Saihara wants to know. Gentle, Saihara speaks, “Maki, what happened?”

“I-I… I can’t tell you.” Harukawa tells him, though that doesn’t help much. “They- They don’t want me to tell you, Shuichi. Shuichi, please- please help me.”  _ Weak _ . Harukawa looked rather weak right now. 

Saihara wondered if she always looked this way, so defenseless and small and so, so useless. Except she wasn’t. Harukawa wasn’t weak or defenseless or useless, she wasn’t- “What do you need help with?” He tries to make his voice soft, one hand on Harukawa’s shoulder, covered by her dim jacket.

“You- You…” Harukawa starts to say, “These past few days, I’ve been- You were ignoring me..!” Her voice is loud as she yells, her eyes clenched and fists gripped. She looks up again, and despite her tears, her eyes are red, a bright, red flickering dim. “Y-You skipped school without me, a-and she… And t-then you ignored my texts, you didn’t even call m-me on Sunday like y-you usually do!” 

Saihara doesn’t say anything.

“And then a-and then when I come to your place, y-your not even there like you u-usually… like y-you usually are! A-And there’s some girl th-there, and some random guy that looks like your twin!-” Saihara’s breath hitches, and his hand freezes in place, “A-And then you come home, a-and… There’s some fucking guy! You're such a jerk, you piece of shit, you motherfucking ass, you trash-” It was nice to know Harukawa wasn’t crying anymore at least.

“So… that’s how you’ve been feeling.” Mutters Saihara makes to himself, coming out quiet. Harukawa can still hear him though, not like it matters. “I'm sorry. I’m so,  _ so sorry _ , Maki.” It sounds a little desperate, as though begging forgiveness. 

Saihara wrapped his arms around the red-eyed girl, tightly and clenching his fists. Harukawa hugged back, into a tight squeeze. “It’s- I… “

“I can tell you everything I can. I  _ will  _ tell you everything I can. I-It might be hard for me though, it- I’m not sure if I will be able to- something- something won’t let me. But I’ll try. I’ll try my best, Maki.” Saihara promised, tightening the hug, and he doubts he could breathe. That didn’t matter though.

“I… I-” Saihara interrupts Harukawa. 

Saihara started again, “I love you, so please, please don’t leave…”

“I won’t.” Harukawa assures him, “I… love you too. I wish you were my brother… I wish that I was born as someone that could help you more. I- You’re like a brother to me.”  _ You’re like a sister to me as well _ , Saihara thinks to himself. “Can you… Can you introduce me to your new friends and that weird twin brother?” She smiles, hugging him again before letting go. It’s that weird person mentioned again.

Saihara nods, “Um, by the way, do you happen to have that envelope you were-”

“Yeah.” Harukawa nods, quickly handing it to him, “But what’s up with that signatur-” Her voice cuts off, and she checks her neck for a moment, looking down. She looks back up, and stops speaking. “Here’s… Here’s the letter.”

She hands him a letter, pushing Saihara a little to actually hand it to him. The sky was cloudy today, and it looked soon to rain again like it did on Saturday when he and Ouma played hooky. Saihara looks at the letter, and it’s just like the letter he got from his ‘ _ future self _ ”. It was stark white, crumbled up in the very corner yet smooth everywhere else. There was no signage, no writing or stamp on the front, which meant it was hand-delivered.

_ Somebody that looked like me… This is quite the strange situation. How is that possible? And why is Harukawa holding it?  _ Saihara furrowed his brows,  _ It isn’t opened- Of course it isn’t, Harukawa wouldn’t try to do that.  _

“Huh. I’m not sure who that person is…” It may just be his future self, but he didn’t add that.  _ I told her I would try to tell her everything, and look at me, I’m already breaking that.  _ “Let’s go inside and introduce you to Akamatsu and Momota, Harukawa.” Harukawa pauses, smiling a little while Saihara stuffs the envelope into his other pocket.

Harukawa seemed to have calmed down now. “And here I thought you’d call me Maki now,  _ bro _ .” That was a new nickname, “Let’s hurry up and go, and then you can go tell me the new goods,” The new goods, most likely news that she wanted to know, new things. Saihara gave her the information and she made it out to theories. “Wait- I need to blow my nose and wipe my face. And… I guess you can grab that bundle of flowers- God, those colors are awful.” Saihara couldn’t help but agree.

Harukawa goes in, first going into the bathroom, and Saihara opens the envelope. The letter is short- Well, at least shorter than the first letter, written with my handwriting, carved black into the white sheet of paper. 

Saihara read over it, and it was… more information. Information about himself, lined up with what he liked, detective books and interesting people that weren’t too pushy but still a little needy, what he disliked, gossip and caring about things unneeded and people that judged him a little too much, what he liked to eat, sushi and fish, to what his favorite color was, a slightly dim yellow that Harukawa argued was an awful favorite color, what his singular favorite type of paper was, which he won’t say for now, and why he liked Danganronpa so much when he first saw it a year ago.

A chill crawled up Saihara’s spine, and he quickly tucks it back into his pocket to examine it in the later future. 

Harukawa comes out of the bathroom a little later, a mole under her eye and eyes looking less red, if that made any sense. They glanced at each other for a moment, “We can talk about  _ it _ tomorrow, bro.” And Saihara feels like he’s going to hate that name.  _ Fun, real fun.  _ Saihara thinks dryly. He doubts she’ll keep calling him that though.

Akamatsu and Momota are sitting down on the kitchen table chairs talking to each other about Danganronpa, something similar as well as their horribly bright (?) attitudes. There’s something reminiscent of the fact that the four of them are here, almost familiar with the way they all seemed to know each other. That was abnormal, for one, and Saihara would rather not think about things.

Akamatsu looks over, her eyes shining a dim pink mutated purple, something gooey and fairly unreasonable in there. “Oh, they’re here.” She says, in a rather bored tone, sitting across from Momota. Four chairs, four chairs laid out like it was meant to be that way. But really, it’s just the normal everyday dining set-up, and he's overthinking again.

“Hey bro… and undetermined female. How you guys doing?” The ever so causal Kaito Momota, the luminary of something Saihara forgot said, “Actually- nevermind. Gramps told me not to talk about this stuff with girls- somethin’ about how delicacy..?”

“Can- You guys… aren’t very good at talking to people, are you?” Harukawa says, and Saihara does find that to be true. Akamatsu spams him into a one-sided conversation, and he barely knows important to non-important messages, and Momota keeps talking about money. They don’t comment on that, and she giggles, “Hello. I’m Maki Harukawa, and I’ve been Shuichi’s friend since middle school.”

When Harukawa holds out her hand, nobody takes it, and there seems to be an awkward pause as Momota very slowly puts his hand in it. And then he’s back to his crazy grinning self that Saihara gets a headache from, “I’m Kaito Momota! The luminary of the stars and- Well, if you ever need any help beating up someone I can help.”

“Don’t worry,” Harukawa reassures, sitting down on the chair beside Akamatsu. They didn’t seem to introduce each other as they looked at themselves for a moment, and Akamatsu quickly looks away. “That horrible arrangement of flowers you made earlier is enough to kill even the toughest.”

“Hey- Wait! Girls aren’t supposed to make snarky comments!” That’s… not exactly the best conversation starter. “That’s… I met Shuichi when I was helping him beat up someone.” Momota looks down to think about his life choices, scratching his chin.

“That’s rather sexist! How about I stuff your head down a toilet so you can get a first-hand experience of death at your sight evolving into despair- Hey, Shuichi Saihara, sit down already!” Akamatsu chirps, clasping her hands together, a little messed up from playing piano, Saihara supposes. Saihara decides to follow what she says  _ for now _ , stiffly sitting down in a different chair then what he would when eating food here.

“Full name.” Harukawa says, knitting her brows together, “that’s weird.” Nobody seems to specifically say anything about that, but it is most definitely heard. “Hey- What’s your name? And why did you have a key to this place?”  _ Or perhaps my uncle did decide to lock the gate today, and Akamatsu somehow got that strange key _ .

“My name is Kaede Akamatsu, and I met Shuichi Saihara three days ago on exactly October 11th, 5:39 PM! He was sleeping rather driftfully on the concrete on the roof, covered in a thick layer of dreams so I couldn’t shake him awake. Hey- Wanna see a picture?” With or without her vivid description and pinpointing time nottage, Saihara was learning Akamatsu had a picture of him she didn’t tell.

_ She better not have more _ \- “And I’m Shuichi fucking Saihara, and I wonder why I’m in this situation.” Deadpans Saihara, although it is unneeded from the look in his sharp eyes, preying around. 

“That's overdramatic, Shuichi Saihara. The depths of hell reinform to creation can’t handle such a thought!” Akamatsu nods. “I’m your future wife  _ obviously _ . Why else would I be here in such a thrash of humanity captured in your heart? Because I like you of course!” 

“Wife? Childhood friend? Damn Shuichi, bro. You have all the girls. Hey- Hey, give me some tips.” Momota asks, “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to pay me, you just have to give me one dollar.” Momota leans onto the table. “Hey, Harukawa, Makikura, Harumaki? Hey you, gimme your love and I’ll pay you! Is that how you do it, Shuichi bro?” Harukawa gave him a weird look, before saying, 

“I have a boyfriend.” Momota pauses for a moment, before rubbing his arm and looking away uncomfortably. “Wait- Akamatsu, what was that about being Shuichi’s wife? That can’t be true. That really can’t…” Harukawa thought for a moment, and Akamatsu looked at her boredly.

“Why not? Shuichi Saihara, you haven't said anything about you already being married to someone- Wait, is that boyfriend Shuichi Saihara? God, what a fucker of a cheater! A wife and a girlfriend!” Akamatsu gasps, putting her hand to her mouth with an amused smile. She’s obviously lying, though Harukawa doesn’t seem to notice.

“N-No! I love him like a brother, god.” Harukawa clarifies, “He’s… Shuichi is one-hundred-percent not into girls like that. He even told me once that he- Why does everyone look so surprised? Shuichi?” Ah. Harukawa told them.  _ Well, their reactions are quite funny.  _ Akamatsu looked to be in confusion, until something in her head clicked and she paused even more, turning into cold stone, and Momota didn’t seem to get it at all.

“Wait… Wait, what?” Akamatsu asks, her voice cracking a little. “Hey, Shuichi Saihara, what is she saying?” Saihara rolls his eyes, tsking his tongue.  _ Can’t you figure it out? I thought protagonists were meant to be smart.  _

“I’m bored,” Saihara says, and he truly is. Their reactions were fun for a moment, but that feeling never does last long enough. Though must it really when too much grows greed? “Hm… Hey Kaito,  _ bro _ , who do you think has purple hair?” Amusement flashes in Saihara’s eyes as he plays around with Momota’s mind. Momota jumps back a little, like he’s looking at a monster. “Not you, you heathen.” Saihara giggles at him, and his face turns red, embarrassed. 

“Uh… I don’t know who has purple hair.” Momota pondered, “Can’t you just get over that Shuichi?” First name, still. Something to note, it seems that Momota will officially call him by his first name. “Like… grow out of it? Like a tadpole?”  _ Like a tadpole… That’s an awfully weird thing to say. _

“Wait, holy shit, what?” Akamatsu asks again, to which Saihara only shrugs. “Is that why she was crying in the front? You two-timed two girls and then you tormented life’s reality to reveal a rebellious truth of hatred towards the rules?” More like he got a letter in the mail and then Akamatsu tried to jump off his school building that wasn’t even her school, and he just happened to recognize her from the letter enough to be able to decide that maybe it would be better if he wasn’t framed for pushing her off.

Though that could also work. “Ah, no. My boyfriend and I got into a fight, and then he accidentally punched me, so I ran off to see if Saihara was here. Not expecting that blonde chick from TV.”

“What?” Momota asks, before waving his hand, putting it to his forehead and groaning. “You know what, I’m leaving, I have a lot to think about now. My bank- my bro is sick, and then… I know someone from the big box? Bruh my gramps and grams won’t believe it… Ugh, I’m going.” _ That would be greatly appreciated Momota. I was starting to get a little sick of hearing you speak.  _ Saihara stands up a little to help him escape the house.

“Nobody cares.” Akamatsu points out and refocuses herself to Harukawa. “Hey- Maki Harukawa? Tell me more about what the fuck you just said.” She pauses, glancing at Saihara, “And you, Shuichi Saihara, stay sitting.” Saihara slowly sits back down, flickering his eyes between her and Momota, backing away from the scene before shutting the door of the kitchen.

There’s a moment of silence before Saihara opens his mouth.

“...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a little more than 2,500 words for this. I swear this chapter is still rushed. I really wanted to get this day done and get with the next day, October 15th, because at Lunch at school, Saihara and Harukawa have the talk. It was fun to write Kaede though, I guess. You guys probably hate me for making her seem that way, but she is written that way because of her backstory.
> 
> [Yeet](https://strawpoll.com/s5w4gc6r)


	28. The Truth is Half Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nobody cares.” Akamatsu points out, and refocuses herself to Harukawa. “Hey- Maki Harukawa? Tell me more about what the fuck you just said.” She pauses, glancing at Saihara, “And you, Shuichi Saihara, stay sitting.” Saihara slowly sits back down, flickering his eyes between her and Momota, backing away from the scene before shutting the door of the kitchen.  
> There’s a moment of silence before Saihara opens his mouth.  
> “...”
> 
> “... So, uh- I mean, Maki is half right half wrong..?” Saihara says, rubbing his neck a little. That’s not particularly the most truthful thing he has ever said, but not much of a lie. “This is really weird, talking about this to someone like you.” Saihara thinks he’s putting up an act, trying to act this way. He probably is.

“... So, uh- I mean, Maki is half right half wrong..?” Saihara says, rubbing his neck a little. That’s not particularly the most truthful thing he has ever said, but not much of a lie. “This is really weird, talking about this to someone like you.” Saihara thinks he’s putting up an act, trying to act this way. He probably is.

“That’s- Alright then, let’s not talk about it then.” Akamatsu scoffs, “You probably don’t care anyway, you antagonizing breath of mondaine.” Akamatsu rolls her eyes, pushing the chair back. “I’m leaving for now.”

“Are you okay, Akamatsu-” Saihara began to say, but she didn’t let him finish.

“Oh! Don’t worry! I’ll come back tomorrow because I know the type of person you are. The type of push and pull maniac that always waits for their friends to come back, never caring if they don’t, always thinking that they will come back- they have to, right? Lucky for you, pretty boy. I just happen to be patient. So despite whether you never decide to talk to me, never caring, it’s fine! Because I’m going to be your wife, won’t I?” Saihara has no reason to tell her no or yes, so he doesn’t say anything. His eyes bore into her while she was at the door of the living room, and they flickered with doubt before she shuts it.

And here, Harukawa and Saihara sit across from each other, a pause that can’t be filled, and Saihara’s alone and bored again once she leaves. He laughs a little to himself, tugging at the bouquet of flowers in his lap as he stands up.

_ Hm… that was surprisingly fun. I should do that some other time, with perhaps a different group. _

The sun beams in from Saihara’s window, and the calmness of the air surrounding him brings him to peace. Covered by a cold, a little too thin blanket, Saihara sighs, stuffing his face in the pillow. The room has something disturbing about it, Saihara dares to think when he opens his eyes, and for a moment he swears he sees someone, sharp nails digging into the tip of his bed, a malicious smile that’s fading into something soft.  _ Don’t. _

It's reaching out for him, it’s fingers shuffling as it grabs his cheek, and Saihara is still unmoving as something washes over him. Not terror, not amusement- He doesn’t quite know what this feeling is, but it makes him feel sick.  _ Don’t. _

Saihara can’t breathe, and it’s pushing down on his skin like mochi, weaving it into something that nobody quite knows before it eats the mochi. He can’t breathe, while it’s grip grows tight around his neck, and it hurts more than he remembers.  _ Don’t. _

He feels like a small child, and his throat is dry when he shuts his eyes.  _ Don’t.  _ A voice in his head is echoing something soft, as though to tell him off in the kindest way possible. It puts him on edge, everything puts him on edge, and the hand stretches to his eyes, locked away.

_ Don’t.  _ The voice is faint, though Saihara can hear it saying something distant, a little like the waves of the expansive sea. Saihara feels light-headed, as though he were in a dream as something breaks in his mind, and he sits up, eyes still shut.

“Shuichi Saihara.” It’s a different voice, a little too close to him that he chokes out air he didn’t know he was holding. He tried to breathe again, but to no avail. The air was thick almost, and it smelled like something that wasn’t quite right, like perfume put in a factory. “Saihara, Saihara, Saihara…” It almost felt familiar, as the person seems to break into a sob, while Saihara tries to raise his hand.  _ Don’t. _

It’s stiff, like a doll, maybe he was a doll. After all, his future was already set into stone if he were not to die before, or never get found if he ever got kidnapped. He would grow up, his parents start him into acting- although he was a natural, they all knew- and grow older and older, try to get as famous as his parents and they would be proud, and then they would have him get married to someone like Akamatsu, or perhaps even the girl herself.  _ Don’t.  _ And then he would start a family and never talk to them, too busy with trying to earn his unneeded parent’s respect until they die, his uncle out of the picture a long time ago.  _ Don’t. _

That was the plan. And if it did happen, well, then it does, not much he can do or care about now when he was already more than halfway into his childhood, considered a young man by now. That would be funny, wouldn’t it? Amusing in a way, how fate would play out. Maybe he would actually get kidnapped, wouldn’t that be fun?  _ Don’t.  _ Ah, but not really.

Saihara goes stiff when a hand taps on his wrist. The hand is cold, frigid almost, and it turns into the only thing he can feel, almost burning into him while he tries to move it away. But his hand can’t move and he can’t breathe and he’s pretty sure he’s dying and choking and running out of air as he tries to remember where he was.

His room. Right.

_ Don’t. _

“Saihara, Saihara, Saihara. Will you forgive me?” The voice, the person in front of him that he couldn’t quite make out with his eyes tightly shut, a grimace showing on his face when the grip on his wrist starts to grow tighter. Saihara tries to breathe in, feeling sick. His head feels dizzy, his mind is in a state of trance. The voice is that of a female’s, though certainly not any he can remember. It sounds familiar though, and something chills up his spine when he hears it closer.  _ Don’t. _

“-aihara, Saihara, Saihara. Why can’t you speak, dear? Please talk.” The voice, familiar, is like acid, killing him slowly while it crumbles his bones into burnt edges, making him feel numb. Sweet acid, like the acid in a kiwi, something that- Saihara doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Something about kiwis, fruits, grapes, something along those lines.  _ Don’t. _

“Saihara. Open your eyes, won’t you? You’ll wake up and everything will be just dandy.” This couldn’t be a dream, because it felt so real yet fake at the same time, and those words sunk into Saihara’s head. “Everything will be safe, and you will be safe. You won’t remember me, you won’t ever remember, because that was how the game of chess was set up, wasn’t it?” Saihara doesn’t nod, nor does he shackle his head. He feels paralyzed. Hallucinations shouldn’t be able to talk, they shouldn’t- Was this even real?  _ Don’t.  _ “Now go back to playing checkers with that putrid sight of false memories implanted in you, won’t you?

“Open your eyes.”

Saihara is dying. Saihara can’t breathe. Saihara will wake up if he opens his eyes. Saihara’s wrist, plunging sharp nails stuck onto him, hurts. Saihara finds this situation so fun, so fun, but not really, since this isn’t really a situation. It’s… It has t o be a dream, right? He’ll open his eyes, and he won’t remember any of this, and he’ll find himself safe in his empty room in this empty house on this empty world, where no one is truly there but himself, himself, himself all alone. Saihara, Saihara, Saihara… Saihara...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> olo, olo, olo. So I had no idea what to do with this chapter since you guys literally choose the one with no prompt, so I changed plans and made Kaede mad. Trust me, if you want Saihara to live at theend of this story then you most definitely want her to be Saihara's friend, so you better think about that the next time you vote! :D Also, you ever think about how rushed this is? I do. I think about it every single day when I access my separate doc that has all the days set up. Here's the voting poll!: 
> 
> [Saihara, Saihara, Saihar IDK what I'm doing help](https://strawpoll.com/zpk6fbec)
> 
> Thank you two guests, and now I write fukll [aragarh on characters. This is how and when I'll write access to the backstories of the story that can change the plot (BTW these should take way less than a month depending on who, and should be like, two weeks top. So make sure that if you want to go one person's route solid, you stick with that.):
> 
> Saihara's - In dreams, which appear randomly. (According to a coin I flip)
> 
> Akamatsu's - After October 11th, and she will appear when Saihara texts her, or when she breaks into his house (After school). She will not appear when she has recitals and is busy.
> 
> Yonaga's - After October 12th, and she will appear at art galleries or at the park, so whenever close by, she is found to be near unless it is night.
> 
> Ouma's - After October 10th, and he appears at DICE or when Saihara texts him, and will not appear when he supposedly busy with stuff (School time for every day) or when he is mad and is more likely to show up at night.
> 
> Ryoma's - After October 13th, and he appears at Saihara's house when his cat, _Hoshi Ryoma_ , shows up at Saihara's house. You are forced to do his backstory.
> 
> Gokuhara's- After March 18th, and he likes to be around the more peaceful parts of the town, near the forests despite how he acts. Gokuhara usually will only be working in the florist shop on Wednesday and Friday after school.
> 
> Shirogane's - After January 9th, she appears whenever parties seem to be and know Bishop. She randomly appears in cafes and buses and subways and while your walking, although sometimes she isn't there. Saihara can't get her phone number, but Amami has it.
> 
> Amami's - After October 12th, he appears when Akamatsu invites him, and seems to be close to Akamatsu's twin sister, although her name is to remain a mystery. He is found whenever Saihara texts him to where Saihara decides.
> 
> Yumeno's - After November 16th, she seems to help to teach a class of kids after school, so Saihara can talk to her after an afternoon. She does not appear on weekends either.
> 
> Harukawa's - She appears on October 10th and appears on every day except when Saihara gets far enough into her backstory.
> 
> Momota's - He appears on October 10th, and even though Saihara has his hon number after October 12th, Saihara doesn't ever call him, like, ever. He physically appears in random places, and sometimes just is randomly there for some reason. His character is just like a random splat of paint except that's wrong but right. 
> 
> Tojo's - She first appears on December 8th, and can only be found on the weekends and get texted then. Though further into her story, she can be visited every day at Akamatsu's school.
> 
> Chabashira's - Appears on August 5th, and can only be seen on summer break (August 5th - August 30th).
> 
> Shinguji's - Met first on October 16th, and can only be seen at school until the very end of his story.
> 
> K1-B0's - Met on October 17th, he is very active on Saihara's website, so Saihara can check on him by time without a vote and text him, and they truly meet in person on October 27th.
> 
> Iruma's - Met on November 5th, at a gaming store. She works in a lot of places, so whenever Saihara goes to the 777 convenient store or a mc donalds like place with Momota, he'll have a chance to see her. 
> 
> this took me a lot to write.


	29. Eye-Opening Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara is dying. Saihara can’t breathe. Saihara will wake up if he opens his eyes. Saihara’s wrist, plunging sharp nails stuck onto him, hurts. Saihara finds this situation so fun, so fun, but not really, since this isn’t really a situation. It’s… It has to be a dream, right? He’ll open his eyes, and he won’t remember any of this, and he’ll find himself safe in his empty room in this empty house on this empty world, where no one is truly there but himself, himself, himself all alone. Saihara, Saihara, Saihara… Saihara…
> 
> Saihara opens his eyes, wide, breathing panicked and his body frigid cold. He pauses to touch around his body and check just to make sure. It felt too real to a dream. His wrists had no marks, and everything seemed okay.  _ It… was a dream. That was a strange dream. _

_ Don’t. _

Saihara opens his eyes, wide, breathing panicked and his body frigid cold. He pauses to touch around his body and check just to make sure. It felt too real to a dream. His wrists had no marks, and everything seemed okay.  _ It… was a dream. That was a strange dream. _

“I should…” Saihara says to himself only, “I have school to go to. I should go do that.” Saihara groaned into his hands, sighing as he opened his phone to check the time.  _ It’s-  _ Saihara widens his eyes for a moment, making a peculiar face at the time.

_ 10:21 AM. _

Quickly shuffling up and trying to get out of bed, buttoning up his white-buttoned shirt after taking off his clothes, his blue-themed clothes onto him as he pondered why his uncle didn’t try to wake him up.  _ Usually when I wake up late, he tries to wake me up. Did he not have a chance to come home tonight? _

Due to the solid fact he was late, it couldn’t get any worse on his part, so he decided to walk through the way close to the red bridge by his house and the school. It was a good exercise, since he didn’t particularly like doing anything extra, and it was peaceful in a way, some people waving at his familiar face.

The bridge was still in good condition, painted a bright wine color and pale lanterns hanging with fairy lights around it, some people putting up talismans or lucky charms. People regularly cleaned it, so it was to no surprise. He remembers playing in it as a kid, although his childhood was nothing but boring to himself so he tries not to think of it.  _ I think… I liked to play on it whenever my parents visited, and then… and then..? I would run up it, and then- and then somebody would play with me, I think. _

_ I can’t remember. _

Before Saihara knew it, he was on the road going up a little to reach his school, a couple of vending machines rationally placed where teenagers would want them to be. He could see a couple of houses thrown in at the edges, and somebody was walking their dog. It was partially quiet when he reached the school, a guard looking at him suspiciously. 

“Shuichi Saihara.” The guard glared, arms crossed, like he knew Saihara. “You’re late.” Saihara tilted his head at the guard, as though some innocent act had indebted themselves to Saihara.

“Yes. I guess I am.” Saihara agreed with the man, and the man leaned forward, a smirk spreading on his face. “My uncle thought it would be funny to take me to his work, but then he realized it wasn’t the correct day.” Saihara sighs, muttering something just barely above hearing, “He really needs more sleep.”

The man furrows his brows, but seems to take in the lie. “Hm… you have to clean up some trash at the end of the day. So you can’t go anywhere! Behind the school after class, Saihara.” The man speaks a little too harshly, and their spit falls to the ground. The usual, truly boring, Saihara finds. Though then again, not a lot of things passed the bar of boredom and too cliche.

Like a mass murder. Actually, no, Harukawa’s friends or herself may get injured.

Saihara quickly changed his shoes,deciding to hold onto the roses today, and went further in the school. The halls seemed rather long today, and when Saihara reached his Trigonometry II class, the teacher paused and looked at him before turning around again. Nobody really wanted to do anything with him, because he was a freak. The freak, with rich parents but still going to this school and having a full-on website on Danganronpa, the freak that knew a little too much and was a little too weird for people to handle.

The day went rather quickly, almost as if boredom was nonexistent. Lunch came after Trigonometry II, where the second years stared at Saihara weirdly in glances, and the teachers called him to the lounge again. Something about safety, something else about his parents, if he needs any help like they knew him- Saihara blocks most of it out, wondering what he should buy from the school store today.  _ Perhaps… _

“Ms. Sanako, what would you recommend from the cafeteria?” Saihara asks. He usually had no preference unless he was at a restaurant, so he just wanted to see what she would say. “Ah- I apologize. I didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast today and I have to eat a lot today in order to clean up trash at the school today!” Saihara raises his fists, forcing a kind smile to his face. An act was easy to get out of these situations, a false face just for a small performance. Saihara, back when he was still at the age of being with his parents, liked to watch his father act. But now, he had no other purpose than being boring, really.  _ Useless, really. _

“Oh! Oh yeah… That’s a good question, Mr. Saihara.” The teacher says, nodding to herself with a small smile on her face. Perhaps she’s thinking that she got through to him, perhaps she’s thinking he gets bullied, or perhaps she’s thinking about murdering him in cold blood and gouging out his eyes to eat. One may never quite know as she continues, “I personally like the fish, going with the rice. The beef here is sometimes undercooked, and… Hm.” 

After the teacher releases him, Saihara resists to roll his eyes as someone instantly bumps into him, falling down weakly. Saihara thinks that for a moment, that he should most likely help her. Instead, he stands there for a moment, observing her. He recognizes the girl, Harukawa’s friend. Saihara observes her for a moment, looks average, chestnut hair slightly tinted pink, and her eyes wide with pink cheeks.  _ Make-up is allowed here? Huh… I should tell Harukawa. _

Saihara finally reaches out, his hand falling to help her up. She picks up her bento and a smile grows on her face, “Hey, Shuichi-”

“Saihara.” Saihara corrects, “Only my close friends and my uncle can do that, sorry to inform you.” That isn’t particularly true. Harukawa only started calling him by that yesterday, though he doubts it will stay that way forever, and Momota… Well, Momota’s weird. His uncle doesn’t even call him that, although Saihara is pretty sure his uncle was the one who came up with his given name.

“Um… Okay?” Harukawa’s friend laughs rather awkwardly, brushing off anything from her skirt, “Thank you a lot!” For what? Saihara just helped her up, “Sorry, I just really like your first name. Is it alright if I still use it?” 

Saihara shrugs, “I don’t care, I’ll probably change it when I grow up, when I marry some random girl I don’t know.” He laughs at the thought a little, not caring much about how she seems to be staring at him intently, and he clarifies, “Sorry, I mean to say,  _ I really like my name because my parents gave it to me, and I will most definitely keep it when I grow up! _ ” He places a cold, fake smile on his face and she giggles at that.

“You’re funny,” Harukawa’s friend smiles, “Hey, you want to hang out with me and my friends? You seem like a pretty cool guy, but…” Saihara knows how this is going to go, they’re going to call him a freak, and leave him all alone. He smiles at the thought, “Maki doesn’t really like the thought of us talking to you.”

Saihara looks at her, and she glances away, her eyes dodging a little, “Harukawa lets you call her by her first name?” Saihara asks, his eyes turning sharp. “Hm…” And Harukawa didn’t trust people that easily, as she usually turns to him and his uncle whenever she has a problem, though Saihara bets she must turn to her friend a lot…  _ Hm, perhaps I need to check something with her current boyfriend. She did say they got into a fight and I saw more bruises than I remember, but I wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not when she told that to Akamatsu. _

“I don’t like it when she tries to talk to my acquaintances either.” Saihara says, a little too truthful.  _ Momota beats up people in alleyways for fun and knows Bishop, Ouma, if I can even call him my friend, seems to have a connection to DICE, Akamatsu has a problem with drawing the line of friend and lover it seems, and is a little bipolar and weird.  _ “At least they haven’t threatened to kill her yet.”

“Anyways,” Harukawa’s friend says, changing the subject with a bright smile, “I guess I’ll just hang out with you for lunch today then!” Free lunch, and Harukawa’s friend was most likely going to get lunch as well from this girl’s wallet. “Wait- Killing? Who are your friends? Are you okay?” Too many questions, the verge boring. Saihara yawns, rubbing at his wrist.

Saihara shrugs, “I met them a few days ago. One of them was trying to commit suicide to meet me, and then the other just beated up someone for me, the other… is cute, I guess.” Saihara can’t just go saying that Ouma has a possibility of being the leader of DICE, a secret organization.

Harukawa’s friend widens her eyes, as though she couldn’t believe it. They were close to the stairs going to the roof, and although some people enjoyed eating there, most of them didn’t stay for long because it was Saihara’s usual spot. Harukawa and he would have used someplace else, but really, it was too crowded. “Wha..? Wait, we’re going to the roof? Uh- But your friends though.”

“I like it up here.” Saihara tells her, “Eh, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse, like one time, I got kidnapped.”

“Wait, what!? Are you okay, Shuichi?” Harukawa’s friend asks, touching Saihara’s cheek. He instinctively slapped it away, backing away a little. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. I have a weird habit of forgetting things I don’t like anyways,” Saihara says, “Hey, Maki.” Saihara waves, walking closer to her and pulling her into a hug. Harukawa hugs back. They quickly pull out of it, “I brought more band-aids, Maki.” She nods, and pauses to stare at her friend. She glares, hard, and goes closer to the plants the teachers put on the roof.

“Why- Why is Maki here, Shuichi?” Harukawa’s friend asks, “I thought she would be somewhere else.”

Saihara shrugs, barely caring, “She’s here because I like her up here. More easy to monitor this-” Saihara pinches Harukawa’s cheeks, and she hisses at him, “She’s like a sister. If I let her out of my sight, she’s dead.” Harukawa’s face goes pale- Or at least, more pale than how she already looks.

“Haha… So I’m going to-” Harukawa’s friend seems uncomfortable. And Saihara interrupts her before she can say anything. 

“I didn’t bring my wallet today.” Saihara starts, “So can Maki and I get stuff with your money?” It’s an awfully truthful sentence, and Harukawa cringes and almost laughs at that. The situation is almost comical, in a way, when Harukawa’s friend nods blankly, healing back down in a trance, and Saihara watches as Harukawa looks back down at the plants on the roof. She kneels, before pulling one out with her hands, ripping it into pieces like paper.

“I met your friend today.” Saihara said in a textbook voice, approaching her slowly as she plucked out another. It’s not like it matters, since the teachers don’t really care about these plants, having left them on the roof for too long without water, long forgotten. “She’s cliche. And her head is slow. She never introduced herself and now she acts like we’re friends.”

Another one gets pullen before Harukawa stands up, a smile on her face as she rips that one apart. “So now that you sent  _ her  _ away, let’s start communicating! Won’t that just be fun, Shuichi? The best, right?” Saihara boredly nods as she sits down next to him, against the freezing wall and staring at the open space in the wires where people can easily go through.

“Let’s start then. Five days ago, when was that?” Saihara decides that it should be at the very beginning. He hopes he can tell her everything- at least, everything he knows so far. When he tried to tell Akamatsu, it didn’t work, so it would logically make sense if he couldn’t to Harukawa… Saihara wonders.

“What does that have to do with anything? It was October 10th... I think.” Harukawa tells him, red eyes with a flicker of curiosity. 

“On October 10th, I-” Saihara pauses, his throat suddenly becoming tight by reflex of anxiety. He continues, his words soft as he does, “On October 10th, I got a letter from my future self.” The words come out, and Saihara stops breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two updates today, no vote. I know, I suck. I'm not sure why I didn't do Thursday and Friday's chapter, I was just inspired. God, I'm so sorry, I was busy thinking about the philosophy of ducks while I couldn't fall asleep because a weird black creature was looming onto me whenever I shut my eyes. OKay! On another note, have a good day! :3
> 
> Thank you to RoseFlora and the four guests who kudos-ed! I- I'm not sure whether it's kudosed or kudos-ed.


	30. Harukawa's Future Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On October 10th, I-” Saihara pauses, his throat suddenly becoming tight by reflex of anxiety. He continues, his words soft as he does, “On October 10th, I got a letter from my future self.” The words come out, and Saihara stops breathing.
> 
> He repeats it, just to stay safe. “On October 10th, I got a letter from my future self.” His voice sounds solemn, worn-out, and his voice is working. Citrine eyes fall onto stiff rubies, Harukawa uncomfortably shifting as she fidgets with her wrists.

He repeats it, just to stay safe. “On October 10th, I got a letter from my future self.” His voice sounds solemn, worn-out, and his voice is working. Citrine eyes fall onto stiff rubies, Harukawa uncomfortably shifting as she fidgets with her wrists.

“A-Are you sure it-” Her voice cuts off, and her eyes widen. Harukawa breathes in and out, “How are you sure? What if- What if it was just some random person that came to your uncle’s house and dumped some letter in the mailbox?” Saihara watches her tense up again, her hands gripping around her wrist a little too tight now.

“I’m sure,” Saihara states, “I- I’m one-hundred-percent sure. In that letter, it stated how we would all be kidnapped- Um, you met two of them, though I’m not quite sure how they all seem connected in a way…- Anyway, we would get kidnapped, and then we would be forced to change our personalities-” Harukawa’s grip on her wrist tightens, one wrinkled plant between. “And then we would have to kill each other… Sounds, um, fun, right?” 

Harukawa glares at Saihara before sighing, her knees going up to her chest, holding her legs together. “That… I got a letter from my future self as well.” Saihara is going insane. He swears to god, to whoever is up there watching and always, Atua, whoever, buddha, that he is going insane. “But not like yours, n-not at all. All it said was a simple,  _ I am Maki Harukawa. And if you want to live, you have to kill- _ ” Her voice cuts off again, and she wraps her hands around her neck quickly, panicked breaths escaping her.

Saihara isn’t sure what to do, watching as she calms down, dropping her arms to her side and starting a different conversation. “Do you have any bandages?” Saihara searches through his pockets: Bandaids of different sizes, two letters curled at the edges, a wrap on bandages, his phone, an eight packet of gum.

“Here… you go.” Saihara says in a quiet voice, handing her the skin-colored roll of bandages. She glances at it before wrapping her wrist with it. Not particularly new bruises on her arm that was often covered by her red sweater, another new one from how tightly she was holding it, scratches all along herself.  _ My skin is easy to break _ , she once told Saihara.

Something in Saihara’s head wants her to continue, to ask who it is her future self wants to kill, if it’s actually her future self like it was for him, or someone else, when she got it, but he remembers the choking feeling that came when he tried to speak about it to Akamatsu… He doesn’t want her to die. “I remember, you said something about your boyfriend and how he wanted to meet me and something by the red bridge? Who is he?”

“His name is Korekiyo.” Harukawa says, a forced laugh coming after that. “It’s not a very common name, so he’s supposedly very proud of it.” Saihara’s brain goes on a short circuit. In the fucking evelope, he was a damn in- 

“What’s his surname?” Harukawa finishes wrapping it around her arm. They both know she’s not doing it to cover it up, they both know she’s not doing it to try and make the pain disappear, or to not get it infected. She just got bored of it. 

Harukawa gives him a weird stare, her eyes far into space and her wrists trembling too much, Saihara notices, “Uchida, why?” Saihara gives a sigh of relief, rubbing his forehead while Harukawa continues to talk about him, the past conversation still fresh on their minds.  _ If I can tell her, could I give her the letter..? Would that… _

“Hey- Shuichi, I know that she- um, might come back any minute, but can you tell me the names of the people that we participate in the game with? And how many have you met? Because I think I have a small theory… I-I’m not really sure of it though.” Harukawa explains, red eyes down at her wrist as she pulls her sleeve of her burgundy sweater back up.

“...Sure.” Saihara nods, before taking in a deep breath and putting on a smile, “They’re… really weird people. The ones I have met, anyway- It interests me. The first person I met was Kokichi Ouma,” He pauses, to look at Harukawa. She keeps her eyes to the ground, her arms still shaking. “He seems to have a connection with DICE- and I’m pretty sure he works at that really weird cafe near the flower shop. He asked for a band-aid and told me he was a fan of my website. And then Kaito Momota, who beated up when we first met. A black masked in fact-”

Harukawa’s face shows betrayal, and slight curiosity. “You met one of them? When I talked to you that day!? H-Holy shit...” Harukawa looks at her hand for a moment, before saying, “Oh. Continue.” Saihara remembers wondering if she cared enough in the first place. It seems she did, and he laughs at himself.

_ I better not let her worry next time then.  _ “And then I met Kaede Akamatsu, that famous pianist on TV.” Harukawa wasn’t too shocked by that, “I saw her trying to jump off our school’s rooftop when I fell asleep, only she stopped to say she wasn’t going to do it anyway, just wanting an amused expression from me.”

“Don’t tell me she did.” Harukawa says, pulling out her phone when she hears a ding, “What was all that weird stuff about being your wife and stuff? And how she didn’t know you were..?”

Saihara shrugs, “She started saying something about my parents I remember, so maybe they did something. Akamatsu said she now owes me though, and is a stalker of mine and has broken into the house before, so…”

“A stalker,” Harukawa repeats, slowly blinking at Saihara. “I swear to fucking god Shuichi.”

“Oh! And the day after that, I met Rantaro Amami. He and Akamatsu are friends I guess, and they both came to my house. And then two days ago, at 4 AM in the morning, Hoshi Ryoma came to pick up my cat.” Saihara continues.

“Hoshi Ryoma. That tennis player’s nephew?” Harukawa asks, voice with mild malice. “God, that one guy who used drugs and cheated? God… Continue- Wait, cat-” Saihara didn’t know that. But then again, he wasn’t into knowing things he didn’t want to know.

“And then I also met Angie Yonaga, and she was lying rather painfully on the middle of the pavemented sidewalk, so I got her some clothes at the place Ouma works at. And also you, your name and description was in the thingThen there’s also the people I haven’t met yet. Gonta Gokuhara, Tsumugi Shirogane, Himiko Yumeno- Although I know where to find her- Kirumi Tojo, Tenko Chabashira, K1-B0, Miu Iruma, and… um, Korekiyo Shinguji.”

Harukawa’s face goes stark white, and she starts laughing a little before saying, “There’s three things wrong with what you just said.”

“As I cannot see.” Saihara nods.

“First of all, why do you have all their names? That’s like, really creepy. Second of all, Korekiyo, that’s… okay I get it now, that’s weird.”  _ Even weirder when the envelope said he had a crush on his sister _ . “Third of all, why was  _ my name in there _ ? And why- And  _ forth of all _ , why the fucking hell is that 16 people, and 16 people that all seem to be teenagers?”

“That is,” Saihara pauses, “Five things. Or maybe four..? Hm…” 

“Stop thinking about that part!” Harukawa blushes, clearly embarrassed, “Though seriously Shuichi…” Her voice goes low, and Saihara goes a little stiffer than his usual self, “Why… does that sound like Danganronpa?”

“Because it-” The door opens, and Harukawa’s friend, whom of which Saihara does not feel is important to ask her name when the girl decides that introductions don’t exist, is holding food, a tired look on her face. “Ah. Why are you here? You do know that the roof is off-limitations.”

The girl makes a face, before making a confused face at Saihara, “I’m here because you asked me for food? Are you okay?”

“Shuichi is never okay.” Harukawa mutters, gritting her teeth.

“Ah. Now I remember you. Thank you for letting me freeload off of you for food.” Saihara nods, before grabbing it out her hands and passing a wrapped-up sandwich to Harukawa, “We still have a lot of time to eat, so don’t eat fast or I’m dumping all your food and am going to attempt a homicide.” Saihara says dryly, “Oh- And you… You can stay if you want I guess, I don’t really care.”

“God, you- Uh, yeah! I’ll stay!” Harukawa’s friend nods, “You know, now you owe me! Since I paid for your food.”  _ But you owed me, so it cancels.  _ Saihara decides not to say that to Harukawa’s friend. “Hm… hey Shuichi, here’s my number.”

“God, now I’m going to have two people spamming me…” Saihara says out loud, glancing at it before giving it to Harukawa, “Don’t worry, Harukawa’s friend, if Maki wants me to have your number, she’ll add it in my phone later, and if she doesn’t, I guess.” Saihara gives Harukawa’s friend a quick smile before saying his thanks and eating the food. Harukawa and Harukawa’s friend goes after that with hesitancy, and they eat in some weird awkward silence with Harukawa’s friend trying to start with Saihara while he glances at his phone from time to time to text Akamatsu’s spam.  _ She seems to have calmed down now… That’s good, I was worried she wouldn’t, and then I would have to deal with her later. _

“Hey Maki,” Saihara says after a small while, cutting off something her friend was trying to start. “Want to meet Akamatsu and Amami today?” Harukawa gives him the  _ Why do you have to start that now?  _ Look before giving a silent nod.

“Akamatsu and Amami?” Harukawa’s friend knits her brows together, “Aren’t those two well-known students at that rich kid school nearby?” Saihara hasn’t thought about it much, but he guesses that would make sense a little, though he doesn’t know why he hasn’t ever seen them on the subway, so maybe they arrive by car or walking. “Kaede Akamatsu and Rantaro Amami?”

“You know him?” Saihara asks. Harukawa didn’t say anything about him being recognizable, but her friend may know, or maybe she personally knows him, who knows? 

“Yeah!” The girl is a little too excited for Saihara’s taste, but he doesn’t have a taste, and he certainly hopes nobody would try and eat him to see if he does. “His family is rich, and he’s the only inheritance for his family.”  _ Only inheritance.  _ Saihara notes how Amami doesn’t seem to have any siblings. “And then Kaede Akamatsu is the famous pianist for playing really difficult pieces! You know them? You  _ actually  _ know them?”

“Why do you care?” Harukawa hisses, and the girl glares back.

Harukawa’s friend answers, “Because Shuichi is going to be meeting them! Hey- Can I come? Pretty please? Like you said, I’m Harukawa’s friend!” She slaps a hand in between her lungs and her heart, eyes wide with a happy smile.

“Depends. Akamatsu might plan to murder you.” Saihara says before looking at his phone again, “Actually, yeah, she’s not going to murder you at all if you stop acting so bland.”

Harukawa’s friend looks offended by that, but Saihara tilts his head and wonders how she could be. The truth, and only the truth from him, isn’t that what his future self did? Or perhaps that was all a lie. “Bland? Excuse me?”

“ _ Boring. _ My acquaintances tend to hate boring people as I’ve noticed, as not everyday you see someone break into your house or try to commit suicide just to know you.” Saihara explains casually, and Harukawa’s friend squeaks. Harukawa looks partially amused by all of this, and Saihara feels happy at that. “And one of them is cute, so it was fine for them to have met me normally.” By normally, that meant asking someone you recognized for a band-aid and then saying you were a fan. Though Saihara is pretty sure Ouma was just confirming it was him.

“Cute? That’s new.” Harukawa says, “Wonder which one.”

“Hm…” Saihara hums, turning back to Harukawa, “You know. The one that may or may not be the leader of a secret organization, though then again, scratch that. That was a lie. Anyways, Harukawa’s friend, they might get bored of you easily, so just telling you.” He looks back at his phone, and hands it to Harukawa’s friend. “There. Akamatsu-”

“Holy shit, what the fuck is up with these past messages?” Harukawa’s friend interrupts, and Saihara looks over. 

__ **Spam:** So I ate an apple today. It looked like you, because it looked like it was really easy to push off a rooftop! so I brought out a knife and stabbed it straight in the heart! It tasted really good. ;)

_ 5:32 pm _

__ **Spam:** I love you. I think. :)

_ 6:43 pm _

__ **Spam:** Rantaro Amami told me I’m doing the same thing to him that I’m doing to you! I think he’s totally wrong tho, because actually, I thought about you sixteen more moments everyday on average, text you four more times, and meet you two times less! :(

_ 6:56 pm _

__ **Spam:** If I murdered somebody and came to your house, would you arrest me? :) That wouldn’t be very good! So I better kill you first before I go on a spree- Oh, unless you don’t want me to kill you.

_ 7:32 pm _

__ **Spam:** DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

_ 8:21 pm _

__ **Spam:** Oh, sorry. Rantaro Amami told me that if I type five D’s to you, then you would get confused and text back, so I typed more than five D’s for it to work extra. Guess that didn’t work! :)

_ 9:43pm _

__ **Spam:** This is Rantaro Amami, and you should probably respond to Kaede Akamatsu since she is sad. :(

_ 10:32 pm _

__ **Spam:** You didn’t even try to respond when I pretended to be Rataro Amami!

_ 10:56 pm _

__ **Spam:** Hehe, Rataro Amami. He is a rat, that rat.

_ 5:32 pm _

“Don’t read them, just read the one specifying the meet-up, and text you who you are.” Saihara says boredly, “Actually, don’t text her. We’re going to meet today at my house, so I’ll just- Uh, just come to me after Homework club is done.”

“Homework club.” Harukawa’s friend repeats.

Saihara shrugs, “I get done with my homework fast and can work on my website.” 

“A website?” Harukawa’s friend perks up, “I-”

“Don’t ask.” Harukawa tells her, “Just- Shuichi. We don’t have any homework today, you do know, right?” Saihara thinks for a moment, and hears the bells ring. He immediately grabs the phone and leaves, running down the stairs and almost falling as Harukawa stares behind him, following him in the same pattern.

Saihara tries not to think, his mind falling back to Ouma, Akamatsu, Momota, Harukawa, the game. It’s all so surreal in a way, yet all so fake, plastered like a lie. Harukawa’s letter, how she couldn’t speak as the words didn’t come out, Ouma’s face when he seemed so shocked about Saihara’s theory, Momota’s flowers all bundled up in an ugly way, the happy look on Akamatsu’s face when she was threatening to jump, how lifeless Yonaga was when she was lying cold on the cement, the purrs of Ryoma’s cat, and the words of a twin of himself, here in this world. 

He really tries not to think, but it’s the only thing that fills his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh- Two updates because I was being lazy the other time. Sorry :\


	31. Harukawa, Amami, Akamatsu, and Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your house is surprisingly normal?” Harukawa’s friend goes, hands behind her back and tilting her head. She had a weird blue jacket on, that would be easy to fit a knife in her pocket. Saihara doubts it though. “-Uh, and can you please back away,  _ Maki _ ?” 

“Your house is surprisingly normal?” Harukawa’s friend goes, hands behind her back and tilting her head. She had a weird blue jacket on, that would be easy to fit a knife in her pocket. Saihara doubts it though. “-Uh, and can you please back away,  _ Maki _ ?” 

Harukawa scowls, pulling Saihara’s hand to the gate. “Why did you literally have to bring her to your Uncle’s house?” Saihara shrugs.  _ Because I’m bored _ , is what he feels like responding with, but he doesn’t, instead opening the gate and opening the front door.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Saihara wonders if Akamatsu even came here. Then as he’s taking off his shoes, the two other girls standing in place uncomfortably, there’s a loud thunk to one of the rooms to their left, and it’s the sound of the piano. In a large spiral, the keys seem to have been slammed, and then it stops. 

“H-Holy shit… What was that?” Harukawa’s friend says in a weird whine, backing away. Saihara tilts his head towards her direction before pausing for a moment, and then walking to the direction of his piano, “H-Hey! Don’t leave me alone.”

More keys were being played, in a strange never-ending song with feelings Saihara isn’t too sure how to describe…  _ Anger? Is this her indistinct way of saying fuck me?  _ Slammed again in no particular rhyme, it stops again, and then the keys get abruptly slammed more when Saihara opens the door. 

Akamatsu is grinning at him, her hands on the piano still in movement. Amami is giving him a rather inducing look of pity Saihara isn’t too sure how to feel about while at the same time, his hands are trying to stop Akamatsu from playing.

“Shuichi Saihara! to whom shall the fires engulf tonight in pretentious flames and their organs be reversed?” Akamatsu smiles at him, standing up swiftly and her hands in the air like a circus master. “Ah- Stop trying to get in my way, Rantaro Amami!” She hisses at him, all the while Amami snaps her hand out the air like a broken wing.

“I told you to stop acting to him like this,” Amami refutes at her, to which she ignores, face turning into something rather stiff when she sees Harukawa. “Oh- look, that’s probably his… boyfriend, or something.”

“I’m not crossdressing!” Harukawa yells at him, red eyes glaring hard. “And I’m not his girlfriend.” She crosses her arms, frowning while her friend gets around the corner. She peeks for a moment, and then goes back.

“Oh! Maki Harukawa, welcome.” Akamatsu waves, leaning back into the only seat in the room. She narrows her eyes, red for a moment then dull pink eyes at Harukawa’s friend. She turns, grinning at Saihara with arms open, “And welcome back home! My dear husba-”

“So anyways,” Amami interrupts, making Akamatsu pout, “Kaede broke into your house again- Ah, but don’t worry, I didn’t let her steal any of your clothes this time.”  _ This time _ . Saihara feels subtly thankful, but mostly creeped out in a weird way. “Can I get an introduction though? It’s a little rude I’m not getting any.” Amami laughs, and Saihara nods.

“Yeah, sure.” Saihara agrees, “This is my childhood friend, Maki Harukawa.” Saihara points over to Harukawa, who goes upfront and Akamatsu smiles, tapping her on the shoulder. “Don’t touch her, Akamatsu.”

Akamatsu rolls her eyes at him, “Calm down. I still have hope too! So let me be in this good mood, okay?”  _ Hope to be my wife? God, I never want to hear that again.  _ “And what’s with that plain girl’s face?”

“That’s rather cold, Kaede.” Amami tells her.

Saihara ponders for a moment whether he should care or not, “She’s Harukawa’s friend-” He pauses for a moment, “You won’t remember her name, so there’s no reason to say it.” That was right, in a way.

“That’s so cold, Saihara! Here I thought that Akamatsu was being influenced by someone good,” Amami shakes his head, hands on his hips for a moment before sitting down on the piano's bench. “Can she speak? Or is she a mute?”

“Uh- um..! Yeah, I can speak…” Harukawa’s friend says, going more into the room. She pulls on her skirt a little, face red. “I-I’m a huge fan of you guys..!” Akamatsu pauses, and a smile goes to her face.

“Really?” She says, “That’s neat- Anyways, Shuichi Saihara, let’s go on a date! How about it, huh? And then Rantaro Amami and Maki can go eat the remains of the corpses to bring death upon!”

“Maki. Hey, why does she get to be called by her first name!? Hey Saihara, if she gets to do that, I’m going to do that with Maki now.” Amami tells Saihara, and Harukawa glares at him, “Woah- Hey, calm down Maki.”

They day continues like this, them in the piano room, with Akamatsu going into depth explanations of burning people, and then taking out their organs, and then about Harukawa and Saihara and how stupid Amami was. Harukawa didn’t seem particularly overwhelmed by them, though she kept getting bothered, and her friend was acting like some extension of her while trying to join the conversation more. Saihara remained quiet, body at the door and mouth still.

When they leave, Harukawa’s friend asks him if he could bring her to her house and rejects her offer, Harukawa staying a little bit after and then leaving as well, Saihara giving a small, insincere apology to Akamatsu and they leave as well. Saihara showers, and realizes the roses are still crumpled in his bag, so he brings it out and puts the ones still alive (somehow) in a clear jar next to the purple flowers he got with Momota. And then the day ends. His uncle doesn’t come home that day, with the sky raining, and Saihara brings his umbrella, black. He would get a Danganronpa one but his uncle wanted him to always have a black umbrella because then Saihara would be easier to see in the rain, because his hair was distinctly similar. Another day, and Saihara sighs at the van in front of the next door house.

There are more roses in his locker, and everyone is looking at him weirdly, eyes watching as he sits down in his chair behind Harukawa, though she isn’t here. He worries for a moment, but she comes in, dim red jacket off and bandages arms showing. She gives Saihara a weird look before sitting down and looking at the black-masked cases. Someone kicks someone else before the teacher comes in, but Saihara can still feel their eyes, watching him and Harukawa.

School happens, and Saihara watches as the roses wilt a little per minute. One teacher tells him to throw them away, another putting them in a jar of water for him for the day, and he comes back to take them. 

Lunch is slow, Harukawa’s friend is gone and Harukawa replaces the plants on the roof, apologizing to them even though Saihara doesn’t believe they can hear it. He made lunch that morning. Homework Club passes quickly, while others look at him like he’s a monster. He works on his website, talking about how Danganronpa season 52 would work, the personalities, the lack of government movement according to his part. 

He wonders about Amami, how life is going for him, wondering about everyone else he hasn't met, their description, the way they’ll act and how different it will be. Saihara really is curious what will happen when he gets kidnapped, what happened to his future self’s uncle, if his future self’s parents ever worried about him. He laughs,  _ probably not. _

Saihara looks at the black-masked cases, or the news so far. No reports, no progress. Saihara wonders for a moment, before looking at his phone.  _ What should I do..? I should… I should... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go, thak:
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/kpr4gh1c>
> 
> i rushed because I'm in a drawing mood, that's why everything has been so weird. Sorry!


	32. The Neighbor Next Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara looks at the black-masked cases, or the news so far. No reports, no progress. Saihara wonders for a moment, before looking at his phone.  _ What should I do..? I should… I should… _
> 
> _I should go home and see what was going on with the neighbors. Weren’t they making quite the ruckus yesterday? Though Akamatsu and Amami might be there… Though I think Akamatsu texted me something about a recital? I’m not too sure._

_ I should go home and see what was going on with the neighbors. Weren’t they making quite the ruckus yesterday? Though Akamatsu and Amami might be there… Though I think Akamatsu texted me something about a recital? I’m not too sure. _

Saihara pondered some more for a second before grabbing his black umbrella and perching it on his shoulder before healing out. Some people were glancing at him while he strolls slowly, a little but enchanted by the rain droplets everywhere, the warm colors of the lanterns near the red bridge giving off a melting feeling.

And there he arrives, his shoulder smoldered by rain when he sees the van placed in front of the yard, the well-known moving service waving at Saihara before going in the home with boxes. A young male, standing in front with what would look to be a relative, gazes at him.

“Hello.” Saihara says, bowing his head a little, “I see you are new neighbors.” He looks up at the people, a boy and a girl, so maybe brother and sister?  _ Though I wouldn’t particularly say they look related.  _

A young man- slightly leaner than Saihara, most definitely taller. His hair was sleek black, as dark as the night sky and his eyes glowing between a green and yellow, a black mouth mask covering his face and long bandages under Saihara’s blue school uniform, which made him look a little bit like a mummy if Saihara wasn’t lying.

There was something oddly familiar about him, if Saihara wasn’t lying, but nothing about the girl. The girl was older, though she looked like a child when holding the boy’s arm, jumping up and down with a smile. Her black-brown hair was pulled back in a definitive ponytail, eyes a dark green. She was shorter than both of them, and her jacket and shoes a little too big. “Hi.” Like a rabbit, she hides behind the other despite clearly being the oldest.

“Hello.” The boy bows, before staring at Saihara with strange dead eyes. It reminded Saihara a little of Ouma, or Akamatsu, or even Momota, their eyes always big and amused but something wrong clearly inside. “Yes, we thought moving here would be nice since we used to live in the countryside- Ah, excuse me for not introducing us.”

“It’s fine, really.” Saihara smiles at them, putting his hand up to show it really was fine. This guy seems a little rough at speaking Japanese so he tries speaking more slowly, just to make sure. “My name is Shuichi Saihara, it’s nice to meet you…”

“Korekiyo.” Korekiyo says, and Saihara tilts his head for a moment.  _ That’s… _ “My name is Shinguji Korekiyo. And the woman next to me is my step-sister and current caretaker, Shinguji Amaya.”  _ So Korekiyo Shinguji then. This really is all a little too coincidental to just be a coincidence then.  _ As if there were a camera behind him, Saihara glances just to make sure. 

“Your name sounds familiar…” Amaya Shinguji says in a low mutter, before going- rather, dashing- into the house. The only Shinguji doesn’t seem too bothered, rather, he seems to be intensely looking at Saihara.

“Is… Is Shinguji okay?” Saihara decides to ask, after a long pause and Saihara can’t help but want to shut his umbrella, as the rain was getting on his hair now and he was too tired to hold.

“Shin- Just calling us by our first names doesn’t bother us much!” Shinguji waves in frantic, taking off his mask and putting it in his pocket. There’s a small bruise going purple on his cheek, so that must be why he was wearing it.  _ Red lipstick… That’s a difference. And his personality seems to be different as well from the one future me spoke of. _

Saihara gives the youngest Shinguji a small smile, “Thank you then. You may call me by Shuichi if you want to then as well. You’re wearing my school uniform I noticed. Do you plan on going there?” Shinguji pauses for a moment, eyes flickering panic before nodding slowly.

“I- I think so. I can’t remember…” He explains. Though that sounds odd to Saihara, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Uh… Can you be my guide then?” 

They mutually agree that Saihara can be Shinguji’s guide, the first name coming off Saihara’s lips like they were friends. He observed, during the conversation, how Shinguji seems a little keen about travelling the world, and going to places like shrines, how Shinguji has a low memory, and avoids topics of why he has a bruise on his cheek or why his arms are wrapped up like mummies. It was there less than two weeks, but in that time Shinguji said he didn’t have school. Saihara leaves after Shinguji gives him his family house’s number, and checks the inside of his house.

It’s quiet for a moment, but it feels like there is someone watching him and he hates it. Saihara quickly decides to check his website before working on some homework and studying for any upcoming tests the teachers might slam down on the students.  _ Korekiyo Shinguji… At least he isn’t a psychopath. Or he can’t be, when he has a supervisor.  _ That put Saihara more at ease, and as he fell asleep, his eyes couldn’t snap open and he knew just exactly where he was.

He was in his dream, someone breathing on his face as sharp fingernails pierced his cheek. A deep chill runs up Saihara’s spine, and he grits his teeth, grimacing when the fingernail runs deeper. Heavy breathing, in, out, in, out, though Saihara isn’t sure if it’s him or the person next to him.

The next thing he knows, he’s somewhere different. A chair, somewhat familiar. And he can’t breathe anymore, though he doesn’t need to. He can see it’s dark, pitch black through his eyelids, even though there is someone leaning on the chair.

“Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi, I’m so sorry.” The voice drags on, tired, fragile, and Saihara blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I- I'm sorry. I just wanna gettttttt to Ouma's parttttttt and a bbbbbbbbbbbbirthday.
> 
> Thank you to the guest who kudos-ed!!!!!!! :3


	33. Glasses and Harukawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara tugs his school shoes, and then heads to his class for the day. Harukawa isn’t there, and although it is early people are there. Someone is waiting at his desk, a male student, hard black glasses, uniform neatly prim with a small pin on their jacket. Saihara barely recognizes him.

Another dream, fragile, breaking, and Saihara isn’t sure why his head hurts, why he feels so weak after that dream. He stares at himself for a moment, his hands, checks his temperature. It's all normal, and he can breathe, so it’s fine. It’s fine because he says so.

With one more sigh, Saihara gets up slowly. He woke up early again, the sky outside dim with grey and clouds drifting in wispy braids. He dresses slowly, tiredly, eyelids closing and opening and movements slow. He doesn’t know why, but it’s almost as though he didn’t go to sleep.

His uncle is home, in his study, shifting through the whiteboard with pictures he pins up. Multiple different people wearing black clothes, most likely the perpetrators to the nonsensical case of the black-masks.

He heads out with his bag in hand, black umbrella in the other like a cane to hold him up, pencils jumbling around and notebooks making a small pat when he puts it down to check the mailbox. _ Nothing today _ . But that’s fine, because he wasn’t expecting anything. When he knocks on the door of the Shinguji household, there’s a clear rustle and the youngest Shinguji opens the door, a nurse’s mouth mask on his face.

“Hello.” Saihara says, before yawning. “Let’s go. It’s always good to be early.” Though he wasn’t one to care about things like that, it was good to try and leave a good impression on Shinguji, especially when the person himself seemed to want a good role model.  _ Maybe I should bring Momota around to have them show each other as a good role model.  _

“Hello… Saihara, is that correct?” Saihara doesn’t bother to say yes, instead lazily nodding and starting to walk. Complete silence filled the air for the first few minutes, until Saihara turned the corner of the neighborhood and bright, warm lights filled his vision, the red bridge on top of a small river flowing under, small window shops and traditional Japanese shops around the area. “Woah… I wish I could take a picture, but,” Shinguji pauses, hand going to his chin and pondering for a moment.

“Too bad.” Saihara says sympathetically, though if he was being true to Shinguji he could care less about tourist thoughts. “Let’s keep going. If you want to get food, we can always go to Triple 7 or the vending machines.”

“Vending machines.“ Shinguji repeated, “Let’s go to what I would assume to be the convenient store. What can we get there?” 

Saihara shrugs, “The normal- Hey, I’m going to make a list of names and see if you can make any out, or if you know any. It’s a small test because I’m bored and want to see if a foreigner knows anything.”

“Foreigner? Ah, no. I’m Japanese and was born here. I’ve actually been moving around for a long time.” Shinguji explains, “My accent is fine, so is it the way I speak? How it’s a little rough. I apologize, my mother thought it would be better to teach me English and speak to me in English, so I would…” 

Saihara decides not to speak up about the names then. 

“We’re here.” Saihara says, going into Triple 7. He quietly swipes snacks for him and Harukawa at lunch, golden eyes watching Shinguji grab a sandwich and a soda with obnoxious colors splayed on it. Quick purchases and Saihara’s thoughts drift into a sleepy mess. When he realizes where he is, he’s walking up to the small raise on the ground, his school in front. The time seems to have passed quickly with Shinguji, and Saihara goes in.

The principal's office is near the front, so Saihara guides him there. He leaves quickly, before anyone can see him and goes over to change his shoes. More roses, as though it were a cursed fairy tale. He decides to hold them out for a moment and examine them. No envelopes, no indications of what they could mean. They wouldn’t even dare leave it on his desk, those cowards, nor less explain why.

Saihara tugs his school shoes, and then heads to his class for the day. Harukawa isn’t there, and although it is early people are there. Someone is waiting at his desk, a male student, hard black glasses, uniform neatly prim with a small pin on their jacket. Saihara barely recognizes him.

It’s that person who often tries to talk to him in Homework Club. Though Saihara doesn't need to know him to know that glasses is only trying because the teachers requested it, but it’s not like any of them truly care.

Saihara taps at the roses for a moment, before going up to his seat and the guy. Glasses pauses, before his face brightening up. “Ah- Hello!” Saihara blankly stares, and then he breaks his trance by pulling out his phone. Nothing new. “W-Wait, can’t you just give me a chance to explain?”

Innocently tilting his head, Saihara smiles in a accordance to what would seem to be confusion to the normal eye. In the corner of his eye, he can see people shift with their eyes watching him. He truly does hate those types of things. “Give you a chance to what? I’m sorry, but I’m not quite sure what you mean.”  _ That is technically true- Wait, is that Ouma’s message? _

Saihara looks down at his phone to see what horrid notification Ouma could have caused, but glasses starts to say something and he looks back up. “Y-You know… Harukawa always seems so distant and you don’t seem to know yet… I just wanted to-”

“Maki seems distant?” Saihara asks, his curiosity taking over. “But doesn’t she have friends- Ah, other than me.” Glasses takes a double take, before uncomfortably rubbing his arm and eyes falling down to the ground too quickly.

“She…” Glasses starts, voice cracking a little in a fragile tune that Saihara knows would be so easy to break. He smiles at that, and glasses seems relieved by that smile. “Harukawa and I are the same.”

“Same? Pardon me but I don’t remember her ever telling me she was distributing her body parts to someone.” Saihara says and he can feel the awful stares of the social class, grey eyes fluttering yellow to thick glasses. 

Panic dances around in glasses before he speaks up, “A-Ah? No! Nononono- No, I meant as in getting… um, b-bullied?” Something in Saihara’s mind clicks and he grabs the arm of glasses a little too quickly, and his grip seems to be too much. Glasses makes a weird eep sound before looking at Saihara with glassy eyes.

_ “What’s Saihara doing?”  _ Mutters someone in a low voice, hand leaning to their friend, which responds with the right answer. Saihara lets go before he goes insane, and glasses rubs at his wrist. Saihara doesn’t feel guilt, nor panic, nor anything really. And that is what hurts the most.

“I…” Saihara can’t speak, his voice failing to work. He mutters his next words slowly, under his breath, “Thank you for telling me.” Glasses nods, pity showing in those glass-covered eyes.

“I just wanted to tell you that before you pushed me away again… But I don’t think those friends of hers are really her friends.” Glasses says, before dunking his head a little with a bow, “I’ll- um, leave now. I just wanted to tell you to make sure you knew.”

“Thanks.” Saihara solemnly nods. He doesn’t try to push further, as he doubts glasses would even be able to answer.  _ Same as Harukawa _ . When glasses leaves, Saihara leans his elbows on his desk, fingers curving around the rose in a choking motion.  _ Harukawa- or Maki or whatever strange transition of situation we went into these past few days, just… Should I check with Harukawa’s friend to see if he’s telling the truth? _

_ Same as Harukawa _ . Saihara doubts glasses would even try to lie, unless he was being forced to. He tries not to think about all the events leading up to this, cuts and bruises adding up in Saihara’s mind like simple addition that leads to death. Harukawa’s parents were bad enough back before she went to the orphanage, somewhere around her second year of middle school, now this?

Saihara doubts band-aids can fix this.

School as always, goes by in a slow wave, dizzying and never quite what he wants it to, but still, he has to go in order to get back to land. Math, numbers adding up in his head and the teacher pulls a quick one on Saihara, a question that isn’t in class yet that Saihara remembers studying with his uncle back when he was taking the high school test. It doesn’t seem so long ago, just a few months, but Saihara feels like he’s aged for his entire life already. English and practice and writing and everything mixes together.

“Saihara? Saihara, are you okay?” Saihara wonders how everyone would react if he just cut off his arm, right here and now, if he just started screaming and yelling and waving his arms furiously in the air. If he stops breathing, fainting to the ground. Their reactions don’t quite seem what he wants them to be like, even in his head, so he stops thinking. “Saihara, you look really pale.” Slow words formed, Saihara looks up. Shinguji, his mouth covered by a white mask and pitch black hair falling on his face.

“Ah… I’d hope so.” Saihara says rather meekly. He clears his voice, and starts speaking again. “Sorry, I’m a little out of it. Um… Why are you here?” 

Shinguji gives him a weird look, before saying, “I thought I was going to eat lunch with you, of course.”  _ Oh.  _ Saihara isn’t sure what to think of that, but he guesses that makes his job of being around Shinguji a little better. The fact that Shinguj was at his school was quite a relief, as it would be problematic if Shinguji didn’t try to depend on Saihara.

“I…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iim sorry it was so late, i thinkk my asleep sechedule is sufering so asursejk;
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/u3aoke8xh>
> 
> thank you to the 5 guests!!!!


	34. Three Friends and a Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinguji gives him a weird look, before saying, “I thought I was going to eat lunch with you, of course.”   
>  _  
>  Oh.   
>  _  
>  Saihara isn’t sure what to think of that, but he guesses that makes his job of being around Shinguji a little better. The fact that Shinguj was at his school was quite a relief, as it would be problematic if Shinguji didn’t try to depend on Saihara.
> 
> “I…”
> 
> “I… You know what? Sure. I can introduce two other people to you so you can branch off more.”

“I… You know what? Sure. I can introduce two other people to you so you can branch off more.” But that’s a lie. But then again, Saihara has told many lies so it’s not like they matter in the end, really. Shinguji nods his head, and Saihara can suppose he’s smiling behind that mask.

Saihara laughs at his pun, standing up with his bag in hand, the other shifting uncomfortably at his side as they begin their way to the roof. Saihara bets a quarter Harukawa’s friend is there, and Saihara bets his life that Harukawa is there. Shinguji, although Saihara cannot see it, starts to open his mouth, “The principal told me it was good I was friends with you.” _The principal saw me._

When Saihara doesn’t comment on that, Shinguji continues, “He said that you needed a friend, it’s what your parents would’ve wanted. Oh- And also to tell you not to miss clean-up after school that you skipped. Whatever that means.”

 _Clean-up? Clean-up, clean-up… Ah, right. The guard wanted me to clean up behind the school when class ended. Not like it matters though._ Saihara gives Shinguji a smile, his hand running up the strings of his bag, where he has been stuffing his hat. “Thank you.” No more words to say, there is an undeniably questionable silence until they go upto the roof, the door left slightly opened.

Harukawa’s friend, light blue jacket wrapped tightly around her and chestnut-hair dyed pink at the edges, staring at the plants as though they were magnificently her’s, fingertips at the edge and leaning down in an uncomfortable position. Harukawa was over in another corner of the roof, jacket wet and taken off, her one arm wrapped with bandages showing. Her tinted red eyes look up at Saihara, in almost a cold, empty glare that warps Saihara’s mind like melted butter. “Shuichi.”

Saihara stares back, eyes in a vacant way back. His voice is low when he says, “Maki.” Harukawa turns away, going back to stare at the endless sky. “So why are you here, Maki’s friend?” _Why are you here just like I assumed? Why are you alive and breathing next to Maki?_

“I- Didn’t you say we were friends now?” Harukawa’s friend asks, standing up quickly that she almost falls over her own steps. Hands on hips, she gives a wide smile. “God, Shuichi, you’re so weird-”

“Maki, why is she here?” Saiharaasks, growing bored a little faster than he remembers he could and turning back to Harukawa. She gives him a weird look before sighing.

Harukawa flicks off her jacket, dropping it to the ground before saying, “Because isn’t she your friend?” _A repeat of answers._ Saihara gives a half-glance between the two before Harukawa starts to speak some more, “Who’s the person next to you?” _Ah, right._

“Korekiyo Shinguji,” Saihara simply states, and Harukawa’s wides go wide and her mouth unhinged. “Haha, your face is appropriate. And guess what! He’s my new neighbor, so you’ll be seeing him, like, a lot.”

“Actually,” Shinguji starts to speak, “my sister doesn’t want me to make too many friends… for a personal reason, so I won’t be able to see you out of school.” Saihara pauses, before putting his hand on Shinguji’s shoulder and giving him an apologetic smile.

“You were bullied in the past? I apologize, but don’t worry. I’m actually bullied as well, so I’m sure it would be fine.” Saihara explains, although that is a clear lie. Though not really. Would one consider the illusion of the mind full of trust and emotion a lie? Questions, questions, and Saihara stops trying to think about it.

“I wasn’t bull-” 

“You’re getting bullied!?” Harukawa’s friend says, eyes popping out her skull. “Who are you getting bullied by? And why are you getting bullied, Shuichi!?” Saihara stares at her for a moment, empty eyes wandering around before shrugging.

“By some random girl I don’t know. She keeps on giving me roses and I hate it, and she can’t even bully correctly because they keep on giving me roses in not even the right place- And I hate roses, because god, do you think you’re special because you’re wasting money by buying from that flower shop next to DICE.” Saihara groans, before sitting down next to Harukawa, “Anyway, Maki, I got you some snacks with Korekiyo.” Harukawa looks confused for a moment, before hesitantly looking back at Shinguji.

“So… Hi, Shinguji.” Harukawa waves, her voice smaller than Saihara thought it would be. She seemed to be fine with Akamatsu and Momota, but then again, they saw her break down. _I wonder… Ah, I get it now._ Saihara has solved a puzzle about Harukawa’s friend.

“Hey Harukawa’s friend, introduce yourself to Korekiyo, and you too, Harukawa. It’s pretty rude not to.” Saihara points out, before pulling out a bag of snacks and throwing it to Harukawa, grabbing his hat and stuffing it on his head.

“Oh… Thank you, but you females do not need to…” Shinguji explains, eyes cast down on the ground. _Females. Well, that’s something to note down about Shinguji._ “I apologize, my sister would rather have me not become friends with your type…”

“Uh- Okay then. I’ll introduce myself anyway, because your first name is funny.” Harukawa’s friend says, brushing a strand of her hair off her face. Saihara’s eyes wander to Harukawa’s jacket, for some reason wet and on the floor of the roof. “Suki Kobayashi, nice to meet you, Shinguji.” _What a common name. But other than that…_ Saihara smiles.

“She’s Maki’s friend.” Saihara explains, “Though it appears they were in a recent fight.” _Another lie_. Saihara holds back a laugh, hand scratching his cheek for a moment. Harukawa’s friend, Kobayashi, looks away.

“And I’m that person he keeps mentioning. Maki Harukawa.” Harukawa introduces herself, and she gives him a small wave before fidgeting awkwardly with the bag in her hand. “- God, I swear to god Shuichi you’re like a fucking magnet.”

“What?” Shinguji raises an eyebrow, and Saihara just gives him a smile. “Ah… Anyways, thank you for introducing yourselves…” Shinguji bows, “May I sit next to you, Saihara?” Saihara shrugs, going back to the position he was in before.

“Sure- Ah, also, if you have any time after school, may Maki and I hang out with you?” Saihara asks, “You can call me Shuichi, by the way, because I would say it would be unfair if you kept on calling me by my surname.” Shinguji seems to open his mouth behind the mask, but Harukawa interrupts.

“Me too. You’ll be seeing me a lot.” Harukawa nods, before ripping the bag open.

Kobayashi smiles in a grin, “And me too! Oh- And Shuichi, you could call me by my first name as well, since I’m kinda out of place here.” _Unless you want to participate in a killing game with me and everyone else here on the roof, go ahead and stay away, you goddamn motherfucking piece of a liar._ Saihara is in a good mood.

“I can’t bother with learning names.” Saihara tells her. After all, he already forgot the last name of Harukawa’s boyfriend. He can always ask later though, and it’s not like Harukawa is going to stick with him, Saihara can see. “Thank you for the meal.”

“This isn’t a meal, Shuichi.” Harukawa states, but she goes silent after that.

Peace, too peaceful, Saihara resting his back on the wall next to him, Harukawa to his right and Shinguji somewhere in the front, Harukawa’s friend uncomfortably shifting to Harukawa’s right from when Saihara moved away to the other side of Harukawa. Saihara offers his jacket to her, since her’s is for some unknown, unspeakable reason that now they both know, but she declines, saying the cold is better than being burned alive. Shinguji gives a diorama of why that is wrong, before realizing and excusing his language, to which Saihara laughs at. There’s something unsettling in the air, and although nobody else seems to care much, Saihara can’t help but feel like someone is watching him, always.

The bell rings, loud and bearably that Saihara wants to see if he can change to Monokuma’s theme voice recorded message when a body is found. He attends Film Production, and the teacher puts up a week assignment of pictures stuffed together in a sequence. Art History is a bore, and Physical Education tires him out a little too much, people staring without any words as though to silently yell _Freak_. Saihara stares back, but no matter how much he searches for a reason, all there is a turned-head awkward Japanese teenager with no answer but avoidance.

 _Boring_.

Saihara wonders about life while he walks to the back of the school, the guard says something and forces Saihara to grab a broom. Other people are there, of course, other people Saihara doesn’t recognize. They make small talk, barely cleaning and glancing at Saihara with strange looks.

Skip, skip, skip, Saihara doesn’t want to be here. Skip, skip, skip, Saihara isn’t quite sure what those dreams are. A dream about a dark room, a person, a window, his room, sharp nails, an ever-changing tone of voice. Skip, skip, skip, Saihara wonders, wonders what those dreams mean and what it’s trying to show him, about the person Harukawa saw that looked like him, about how too coincidental all this was, almost like a script on paper and Saihara was the setting.

Almost as though it was all meant to happen almost as though someone was behind the scenes and manipulating the format of his situation, almost as though he was thinking too much. Saihara blinks, and before he realizes it, he’s at his Uncle’s house.

Noone is here, silence following Saihara as he enters the house. He breathes in and out, a shiver running up his spine when he sees nobody when he turns around. It’s logical, though logic doesn’t make sense, so it was bizarre. Everything was bizarre now though, not like Saihara minded. It was better that way, better bizarre and interesting and leading him to his demise than to live. That was boring.

A detective, that’s what he is in the game eerily similar to the way Danganronpa worked. A game, it was all but a fun game to entertain him and the people in it- But that was clearly a lie misshapen in Saihara’s own mind. Danganronpa, Danganronpa, Danganronpa. The 52nd season, after twenty years of absence that the public supposed was due to the fact the government was hunting them down- Even though Dangnaronpa already won. Law-breaking murder or fun entertainment progammed for interest? To kill or not? _Questions, questions, lousy, boring questions that made Saihara wonder. Hopes and dreams, despair and emptiness, boring and interesting, the walls of these have gotten rather thin these days, haven’t they?_

 _What if it is Danganronpa? Wouldn’t that just be the funniest thing ever?_ Saihara laughs at the thought. Talking about Danganronpa, due to his dis-activity, it seems the chat there was thoroughly confused, and there were more questions and questions Saihara didn’t want to answer, something about him rather than Danganronpa. _Ugh… Wait._

Saihara pauses.

 **_K1-B0_ ** _. October 15th, 3:12 AM._

> _Hey, guy? Owner of website? I have, like a major q. So can I help you with this, since most of the time, you don’t really seem to payattetnion, and I remember you saying something abotu watnign to make an online killing game? Like Mafia, the game, but weirder? Yeah, that’d be fun._

The name was K1-B0, the Ultimate Robot, body metallic with bright ghostly eyes. Saihara remembers looking at his name the most- Or rather, his Ultimate, or whatever his future self calls those talents. It sounds awfully like something the Danganronpa Company would use, but Saihara doubts it’s actually them.

He can hear his uncle come home, and he prepares fish for dinner, before eating some and leaving it for his uncle to warm up when his uncle decides to actually check the kitchen before heading straight into his study and working. As unhealthy as his schedule was, Saihara isn’t going to tell him to instantly change his life. Not like that would do anything.

Saihara after a while responds, his phone number in a private comment. He ponders, his head afloat in a dream and everything seems a little more dizzy than it should be. He finishes, and decides to go to sleep.

* * *

 **XXX-XXX-XXXX:** Hello? Is this the owner or did he just send me a random link to something? Bcuz if he did, fuck him.

_1:43 AM_

 **XXX-XXX-XXXX:** You didn’t give your name or don’t have it in the websites help info, only your picture, i guess ill just call you golden eyes. Cuz your eyes are golden, pretty weird though, ngl.

_1:43 AM_

**XXX-XXX-XXXX:** i know it’s like, 1 in JP (Im guessing your JP),, areyou alive?

_1:44 AM_

 **Me:** You spelled “your” wrong, also, yeah, I’m Japanese. How are you? And can we do introductions before we start the whole ordeal and stuff?

_1:46 AM_

**K1-B0:** Oh, yeah i guess we can. I’m Kiibo Iidabashi, JP as well. I know a little bit of coding and ideas for the situation. I liek… volts, in a calm manner. And uh……………… i dislike vendingg machines.

_1:46 AM_

**K1-B0:** Don’t ask why i dislike vending machines i swear to

_1:50 AM_

**K1-B0:** Are you there?

_1:51 AM_

**K1:B0:** Are you dead? 

_1:52 AM_

 **Me:** Oh, I was just thinking. Sorry. I’m Shuichi Saihara, the owner, golden eyes, something along those lines. And yeah, I’ll just make the thing so you can edit, what’s your email?

_1:52 AM_

They talk for a couple more minutes, going back and forth about how they want to sort it out. Iidabashi is right. It should be some sort of Mafia game, where they should do a beta test before they put it out, record it or something and put it on the thing. Something weird and stupid like that. Something funny and now Saihara was looking up Iidabashi and now he sees some guy with a prosthetic arm with an orthotist doctor and arms knotted, the adult with a smile on his face and Iidabashi with an empty look, dead eyes in a ghostly blue hidden behind thin-wired glasses, hair oddly white in an unnatural way.

Saihara at some point, after checking Ouma’s message and seeing something about another coffee shop Saihara remembers going to once because his uncle asked him too, an afternoon time on Saturday. After school. And he feels as though everything is forcing itself to piece together. He has a dream, and though he can’t remember, he wakes up two hours from when he texted Iidabashi.

When he wakes up in the morning, and Saihara finds that in the early morning, near four o’ clock, to find that there’s meowing outside, even though he’s on the second floor of his house there is clear meowing in the early morning, and Saihara is sure he knows why. Saihara goes down with small thumps of his steps, clothes messy with an old shirt that was a little too tight and dark blue knee-length shorts.

And in fact, due to a surprising turn of events, he is indeed correct. 

“Hello, Hoshi Ryoma…” Saihara says, “What are you doing here?”

 _Hoshi Ryoma_ meows, in a small tidy voice and back stretched, he looks up at Saihara, which Saihara stares back. Black hair ruffed up in a grey gradient, white at the tip and mouth in a curve that looks almost… cat-like, eyes glowing gold in the dark hallway as he races up the stairs. Saihara follows after him, trying to be as silent as possible.

Another loud meow, and Saihara watches as _Hoshi Ryoma_ sits peaceful on Saihara’s bed, unraveling his body to reveal his long cat… thing… torso? on Saihara’s earl grey sheets, the cat’s body rolling around. It was too trusting, too open, and Saihara wonders how it would be if he were to kill the cat, just there and now. _I should… call Ryoma. See if he’s awake and have him take his… cat, creature thing before my uncle wakes up._

Saihara remembers his uncle coming home last night, hearing him open the door of his study when Saihara went up but then decided to ditch his plan to sleep early. 

His thoughts are interrupted when _Hoshi Ryoma_ meows, and he wonders what _Hoshi Ryoma_ is talking about, so he starts to say, “Hey _Hoshi Ryoma_ …”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most serious vote. And also, to any people who don't have a strawpoll account and want to vote, you don't need an account to vote! Just tap what you want (Could be multiple choices) and see which vote is at the top.
> 
> Here's the vote! Which is like, super, duper, extracurricular serious:  
> [super serious duper extra curricular votes.](https://strawpoll.com/vgxx2xexk)
> 
> Thank you to the_babiest_babie, Peach_corpse, Ttoonicorn, Im_Kayay_Dead_Inside, and the two guests! And, uh- Those are a large expression of names I see. I ate a pack yesterday. Uh- I'm sorry. I'm sorry for eating the corpse of a peach.


	35. Mr. Hoshi Ryoma the Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His thoughts are interrupted when   
>  _  
>  Hoshi Ryoma   
>  _  
>  meows, and he wonders what   
>  _  
>  Hoshi Ryoma   
>  _  
>  is talking about, so he starts to say, “Hey   
>  _  
>  Hoshi Ryoma  
>  _  
>  …”
> 
> “How was your day, Ho- I’m not saying your name. _God_.” Saihara asks in a tired voice, “I think I’m going insane. Hey, I better call your owner before I go even more insane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone originally saw this as MR. Hoshi Ryoma the car, yeah, I changed it.

“How was your day, Ho- I’m not saying your name.  _ God _ .” Saihara asks in a tired voice, “I think I’m going insane. Hey, I better call your owner before I go even more insane.” It’s a joke Saihara made, though he doesn’t laugh. Saihara just stares at those golden eyes. The cat was eerily similar to Saihara, in a way, and that makes Saihara wonder a little too much.

A phone call, a pause, and Saihara feels like he should fall back asleep, but he knows he probably shouldn't since he would wake up late. The normal everyday High School worries. Ironic, in a way nobody but him would be able to understand.

A knock and the door, Saihara almost knocks over the cat as he walks carefully down the stairs, and there’s Hoshi Ryoma, forcing Saihara to stare down more than he would enjoy to. “...  _ Hoshi Ryoma _ , come here.” And Saihara gets blatantly ignored.

“Your cat, why is it out so early in the morning?” Saihara decides to ask, too tired to care about if Ryoma was staring at him as though he were a freak. Not like he cared much, and it wasn’t like it matters anyway in the end.  _ Hm… ah, the cat jumped into Ryoma’s arms. _

“Broke out.” Ryoma keeps it short and simple. His face goes up close to the cat and his pitch black eyes stare deep into the cat’s soul, expression with something Saihara isn’t sure how to describe, positive or negative, who knows? “Don’t go shitting on other places than your litter,  _ Hoshi Ryoma _ .”

The cat doesn’t answer, rubbing his face in happy motion on Ryoma’s stouty hair. They both stand there for a moment in silence before Saihara speaks up, “... I wonder why- uh, Hoshi Ryoma-”

“It’s  _ Hoshi Ryoma,  _ not Hoshi Ryoma.” Ryoma corrects, scoffing, “Amateur.” Saihara pretends not to hear that when Ryoma turns his back for a moment, and Saihara thinks he should have locked the gate earlier. “Also,  _ Hoshi Ryoma  _ was a good boy, yeah?”

“... Yeah. He’s a good boy.” Saihara says in careful hesitation. “I-” Ryoma leaves, and Saihara wonders about how

The morning comes surprisingly fast, he makes lunch for him and thinks about whether he should bring an extra jacket today but decides not to bring one. Study Hall and Harukawa got rid of her jacket, laughing at the stupid facts Saihara spout out about Iidabashi and Ouma while others give weird looks. Trigonometry II, ELA where the person behind him kept on swinging their feet behind him and a pen clicked too loudly. Lunch where Harukawa and that friend of hers weren’t there, and Saihara had to give her the lunch before she went off with them- Whoever  _ them  _ was, and Shinguji seemed rather pale today, not eating. Film Production was the same, a small task of working on that weekly thing Saihara hasn’t started on. Art History and Saihara isn’t sure what the teacher is talking about. Homework club comes by and he talks some more to Iidabashi.

School goes by slowly, and Saihara feels a little sick when it ends, though he isn’t quite sure why.  _ One more day, one more day until I meet Ouma again.  _ It’s almost as though some sort of hype up, and that makes Saihara laugh.

He decides to walk Harukawa home, and can’t help but realize the bandage on her arm was replaced, and she seems to have been in a better mood now. Saihara contemplates if she actually is getting bullied, and if that friend of hers really is her friend. They seem to be on different wave-lengths, as well as not the best terms, but then again…  _ Let’s confirm with her about this information soon. I should do it… when she trusts me more, and I don’t think she… I should meet her boyfriend before I confirm. _

_ Harukawa… Why did she get a letter as well, and why could I tell her? When I talked to Akamatsu, it felt like I was dying, and none of the others even tried to tell me about the letters. But then again, they haven’t known me as long as Harukawa. Akamatsu seemed to approach me on the roof for a… marriage proposal? Or just to show off to Amami, and Ouma approached me because he was a fan of my website and recognized me… But- _

_ Wait, did Ouma know my name and Iidabashi didn’t? I don't remember ever putting my name on the site, yet Ouma knew. Ugh… God, my head, goddamnit.  _

“Shuichi?”

_ But Momota just wanted to beat someone up, and he doesn’t look like the type of person who tells lies. And he fucking beat up someone for me for no reason, so I think he just wanted to beat someone up. Unless… I wonder, when Harukawa got her letter? _

“Shuichi, stop staring dead in that poor person’s eyes and wake the fuck up.” Harukawa.  _ Ah, right.  _ Saihara snaps out of it, flinching when someone’s hand touches his shoulder. Harukawa. It’s only Harukawa,  _ just  _ Harukawa.

“Ah… good morning, uh- Maki?” Saihara says, fidgeting with the back of his cap. He stuffs it back in his bag before Harukawa gives him a small smile, patting his shoulder a little harder. He tries to brush his hand off with a forced smile. “Sorry, sorry, I’m paying attention now. What were you complaining about?”

Harukawa pouts, putting her hands on her hips and her cheek puffing up. “I was just trying to point out I’m home, now leave! Go! Run away, Shuichi!” Saihara laughs, a real smile showing on his face, flicking her forehead.

Harukawa starts speaking again, when Saihara remains characteristically silent, “You look like a freak right now, with that look on your face. Anyways, what were you thinking about?”  _ What was I thinking about..? Ah. _

“I have a question that you don’t have to answer.”  _ Because you might get hurt, _ “But when did you get your letter?” Saihara asks, and Harukawa freezes for a moment. She opens her mouth, but no words come out and Saihara starts to panic. 

“I… I think I got mine on October 13th.” Harukawa explains, before stopping her words.  _ October 13th, that was the day after Ryoma’s cat came to my house, and Ryoma came at like, 4 in the morning and I went to get groceries. Nothing interesting happened that day in particular…  _

Saihara nods. “Okay.”

“Anyways,” Harukawa says, a little too rushed and her voice cracking a little, and Saihara is pretty sure it isn’t because she’s in puberty. Though Saihara doesn’t know when female’s puberties ends exactly.  _ I hope to never know.  _

“Anyways?”

“Who are you going to hang out with?- I mean, it’s fine if you don’t hang out with me today. But I’m just saying, you should decide since your letter is probably… ” Saihara raises an eyebrow.

“I think…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going insane myself Saihara, so it's normal. Anyways, thank you for reading! Sorry, this chapter is so late, and now I have to water something. And _no,_ I am not going to go water some water if that's what you were thinking. I'm going to go water **watered water** obviously, GOD. Here's the thing though uh- Iajskehdahsfha:
> 
> <https://strawpoll.com/ghv565gro>
> 
> Thank you to the three guests. THANKS.


	36. The Training Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are you going to hang out with?- I mean, it’s fine if you don’t hang out with me today. But I’m just saying, you should decide since your letter is probably… ” Saihara raises an eyebrow.  
> “I think…”
> 
> “Hey, do you want to hang out with Momota and I?” Saihara asks.

“Hey, do you want to hang out with Momota and I?” Saihara decides to ask, eyes lifting to look at red. Harukawa is giving him a strange look, arms crossing. 

She opens her mouth, but quickly closes it. And then she opens it again, saying, “I… You do know I have a boyfriend, and he’s been waiting. Waiting for me at a cafe after school, right? Didn’t I tell you?” Saihara slowly nods, despite not recognizing that sentence. _I don’t think Maki ever told me that, but just nod my head._

He nods his head once more. “But Momota.” Saihara defends himself, “I haven’t explained to him yet what that thing was about, and he might be more comfortable with you there.” Momota. Right. Saihara hasn’t explained to Momota about what Harukawa said, although he doubts Momota would truly understand. But that was fine.

“I feel like… I feel like you know something I don’t know, and that unknown reason is why you want me there.” Harukawa predicts, “Is my theory true, Mr. Detective?” Saihara regrets telling her about Ouma now.

Saihara groans, rubbing his forehead, “Congrats. You get to earn the prize of thinking you’re smart. And _yes_ , there is something I will and doubt I will ever want to tell you.” Especially since Saihara hasn’t told her about the Ultimates. _Ultimate Assassin._ It almost sounded as though Harukawa is hiding something about herself, but Saihara doubts it. But he can’t help but wonder…

“C’mon Shuichi!” She says, “Just tell me! I bet you can anyways, since you could tell me about everything else.” She punches Saihara lightly, and seems to be expecting something from Saihara.

But Saihara doesn’t give her what she wants, “I’ll tell you if you decide to come with me to meet Momota.” Harukawa glares at him, a piercing gaze that Saihara finds abnormally cold despite the warm color in her eyes. She gives up when she sees it doesn’t affect Saihara, and rests her arms in front of herself, sighing.

“Fine.” Harukawa says, giving up. “Let me tell _my Korekiyo_ first, okay?” Saihara nods, before turning to Harukawa’s house- Or, much less a house as a foster home for children and the couple inside. Harukawa’s parents had a tendency to try and handle more than they could, so when they gave birth to Harukawa, they already had foster children coming and going, and right now wasn’t any different. She was their only real child, buit Saihara heard from them once when he visited a couple of weeks ago that they wanted to give birth to another child since Harukawa wasn’t a boy.

“He isn’t _mine_. I don’t own him and I certainly wouldn’t want to take care of him.” Saihara tells her.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that.” Harukawa nods along blankly, tapping on the screen of her phone, “Those pills look like something you would take in high school. Makes me wonder… “ _Pills._ Saihara tries not to think of that, but he can’t help it. When Saihara was younger, one year ago, he remembers that he would take pills that supposedly helped him. He has a hard time remembering why, but eventually, he took less and less, and then his uncle took it away. “Okay, done. Told him, though I doubt he’ll be happy.”

“Alright, let me text Momota to see where he wants to meet up at.”

* * *

A letter, coming in the mail his grandparents sent him despite the distance. A _letter_ , from his home town where everyone thought of him as a little kid that wanted to go to space. From the home town where all the teenagers there used to bring him to candy shops and go do some American tradition because they were all bored. From the home town where everyone knew him and nothing ever went down, and he visited every year to help his grandparents.

And he would be damn to learn that it was just some shit post, some fucker telling him about his future self. Momota tries not to open that letter to give in, but he couldn’t help it. _Weak_ , Momota needs to get stronger. Next time- Will there be a next time? 

There wasn’t any return address, just some strange signature that Momota couldn’t read, and decided to show to Sanchatsco, who only shrugged. But he _did_ seem to recognize the signature from somewhere he couldn’t tell Momota, but that was fine!

Everything, everything, and going on, was going to be just fine, right? After all, he was Kaito Momota, and he had a bright future to look forward to in the future. So he better open the letter and get over this so he can keep on living his life, shouldn’t he? Yeah, he should. Because after all, everything was going to be just fine.

And Momota drops the letter once he opens it. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe hecan’tbreathehecan’t _breathehecan’tbreathe and he’s choking on air and everything is becoming blurry and to fucking hell is_ \- _Oh_. And now everything is back to fine. Momota reads carefully over the context inside, though it’s only a death message, a death message he shouldn’t show to anyone. A death message, an assassination, something meant not for him to see.

A death message from somebody pretending to be him, but not, somebody pulling a prank and asking for him to kill some stupid name he doesn’t recognize, but sounds familiar. A death message for whoever Kokichi Ouma was, whoever had such a stupid name, for whoever was the unlucky unknown to have been in this letter. 

Momota controls his _own_ life, and nobody else can. And that’s how it will always be, so fuck some stupid asshole letter and wheatever context it says inside. He throws it in the trash, and swings his fists in the air, before leaving for a designated place he’s been wanting to go for a while.

He had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, somewhere to be with other people and instead he was reading literal shit. Kaito Momota was not be underestimated like some controlled dog in the police station, Kaito Momota was not some shit piece that you could send some goddamn letter to because you fucking think you could, Kaito Momota was not- He wasn’t- Kaito Momota has to meet up with a _real predator, those eyes sharp and knowing and knowing too much_ that Momota knows has something to do with himself, Momota knows because he _does_ , though he can’t exactly place his finger on it, he just _does._

 _A letter_.

* * *

“Oh- Hey Shuichi, my br-!” Momota yells, his hand waving in the air a little too high and bumping on the top of the door, before hitting the door with his back and he almost falls down if not for grabbing the brick wall next to himself. _Well, that looks like it would hurt._ “Holy fucking shit! Owww… Oh god, uh- no, I’m good, you don’t have to help me up-” Saihara looks back up at what’s going on, and Harukawa is trying to help Momota get up, kneeling a little.

She changed her uniform to something more casual, which Saihara wished he could have done. Despite it being between the fall and the winter, Harukawa is wearing a short-sleeved shirt. Saihara hopes that she at least would bring a jacket, _surely_ , but she insisted she wouldn’t. At least she isn’t wearing a skirt anymore, though Saihara wishes she would have just worn pants instead of whatever those things- leggings? Saihara isn’t quite sure what to call them, but they don’t look like they would be good for the winter. 

“Shut up. Unless you want to be left on the floor and have to pay for your own food?” Her voice is cold, and Saihara tries not to laugh at the look on Momota’s face as he turns his head between Harukawa and Saihara. He very hesitantly grabs the hand in front of him, slowly going up and standing taller than Harukawa.

Saihara felt a little out of place when the two high schoolers came over to sit down, as he was the only one wearing his school uniform still- Or at least, something that could still pass as a uniform. Momota’s pants seem to still be Gakuen pants, though his shirt was a bright purple and one of the sleeves of his strange space jacket was going off his shoulder. “Wai- bro, why is a _girl_ paying?” 

“What? Are you saying that I can’t? Do _you_ want to pay?” Harukawa hisses, shifting to sit on the same side as Saihara. Nobody seems to be too interested in three teenagers talking about whatever they don’t talk about, though someone- a waiter, did come to get their order.

“What? No!” Momota shouts, a little too loudly and Saihara winces for his ears, “Why is she even here, Saihara?” Saihara likes that name better, as it sounds more as though he were his uncle’s child. But like hell he would say that.

“Because she wanted to. Right, Maki?” Saihara asks, before ordering and apologizing for the ruckus. Harukawa elbows him on the shoulder before sighing, nodding along silently to whatever Saihara says. He lets a smile come to his face. _So… if I order food for my uncle before he comes home, I can always put it in his study._ He adds another order for take-out, and the lady moves onto the two others.

Once she leaves, Saihara lets out a sigh and starts talking, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair. “So let’s talk about that funny remark you said the last time we met up?”

“Uh… remind me?” Momota asks, as though he doesn’t know. Or maybe he actually doesn’t, and he’s just that stupid. Saihara wonders, he truly does. “Huh? Why do you have that look on your face? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“You kissed Saihara.” Harukawa nods solemnly with a lie out her mouth. Saihara almost chokes on the water the lady naturally gave him after the order. Momota himself seems in panic, furrowing his brows and back going straight.

“Holy- What? _What?_ What the fucking-” People seemed to notice one panicking teenager and two highschoolers rather than three highscoolers. Weird glances and Saihara stuffed his hat on his head, and although he may look more suspicious, it kept him from wanting to look people in the eye for a long time. _I should really ditch my hat because of the memory change… Ah._

“No, that’s wrong.” Saihara argues, “She’s lying, Momota. Don’t listen to her.” That seems to have calmed Momota down, and his back relaxes more, the hold on the table on pause. “But you seemed to have calmed down from last time, so that’s goo-”

“Oh..! I get it now.” Momota nods with a grin on his face. “Yeah, yeah. Sanchatsco told me I shouldn’t do that.” He puts his thumb up as though that would help the situation, and Harukawa tilts her head at that. _So he said something about that. I almost forgot about him somehow even though we met less than a week ago. Six days._

“Who’s Sanchasto?” She asks, and before Momota can answer her, Saihara whispers to her that she shouldn’t ask. That seems to stop her from further questioning. He might explain to her later, though she’ll probably hound him before that time is meant to come. “... Well then, got anything interesting in the mail yet?”

“Ah, Maki, that’s-” Saihara doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Momota speaks up before Saihara can continue.

“The mail?” Momota asks, putting his hand to his chin and leaning closer. “Not really.” _Not really_ . Saihara knows where Harukawa wanted this to go, but it doesn’t seem to work. _Does that mean that only a couple of us will get an envelope?_ His theory was disproved by what Momota says next.

“I did get this weird prank note.” Momota says, looking deep in thought and his voice going low, “Usually, i don’t get letters from my hometown, but my grandparents sent it to me so I was like, _this has to be important!_ But it just had this weird person’s nam-” And he stops talking. Saihara looks up at Momota, who seems to have physically turned into a statue. _I think, perhaps he’s not okay._

The table goes silent, and the two middle school friends watch as Momota turns abnormally pale, his hand going close to his neck but not quite and he seems about to faint. He doesn’t though, and as a few more moments pass, he drinks water and starts speaking again, “Anyways, I got this-” _Oh god, he’s going to start again._

“Don’t. Don’t- Don’t continue.” Harukawa panics, sitting up and waving her hands around. She rubs her forehead in tired motion and sighs, before lifting her head up again and continuing. “Are you sure it was a prank? And don’t say anything else or I swear I’ll _really kill you_.” It sounds like a joke, but Saihara can’t help but feel slightly wonder. 

“Huh?” Momota asks, raising his hand, “Kill me? I bet you wouldn’t be able to do that even if I used only one of my hands to fight you back!” He laughs while Harukawa grits her teeth, red eyes glaring deep into Momota.

“Why don’t we test that out?” Saihara says. He wants to test something without anyone noticing, about Harukawa’s Ultimate as well as see something about- _In the game, the future Saihara said something about training, didn’t he?_ “We could go to the gym and see who’s stronger.”

“It’s obviously me!” Momota says, “I mean, the Makiroll girl thing creature looks so weak, and she barely even has any muscle.” And he lifts up one of Harukawa’s arms to show it before she snatches her arm away. _Momota, it’s called a female._

“My fucking name is Harukawa. And do you _really want_ to _die_ ?” Harukawa stands up from her seat, and Momota’s face brightens up as though he were a dog getting ready for a walk. What a meaningful question. _Momota himself doesn’t seem to realize what he’s doing and yet Harukawa keeps on getting mad at that. It’s… And she keeps threatening him with death, in a way that sounds familiar just like in the letter. So that connects?_ “Fuck- Shuichi, stop looking like you’re thinking!”

Saihara tilts his head as that waiter gives them the food, asking for the payment. He decides not to interrupt Harukawa’s and Momota’s interesting interaction as he pulls money out of his wallet and his student card, as there was a discount for students. 

He picks up his bitter coffee with some cream in no sort of distinct shape, sipping while he watches the interaction more. Interesting is perhaps not the word, as Saihara is just amused. _Amuse, same things, same things._

After a long argument on who would win a fight to how much they exercise and then to dogs barfing while Saihara quietly sips on his coffee, and then it lands on back to fighting, so after they decide to go to the gym, Saihara carrying everything while they fight like children over who’s going to win. Saihara remembers that in Physical Education, Harukawa never excelled or didn’t get below average for most of the time, meanwhile Momota was taller, and more physically inclined to win, while also having experience in beating up people. 

They end up going to go play an indoor baseball cage, as one was close-by and Saihara did not want to sort out some sort of gym card just so the two could go play dandelion fun.

“How many can you hit? Easy!” Momota says much too excited, fists up in the air and the baseball bat almost falling on his face. Harukawa scoffs with it ready in her hand, position set up while an electrical voice says _go!_

It seems that Momota is not as good as control as Saihara thinks, and keeps hitting off the target in front of them a little too high, and one somehow went to another cage and hit someone else, and Saihara wouldn't admit that he was more than entertained, but he was. _I mean, one is ought to be amused if they suddenly get a letter from their future self that ends up getting them here. Anyways… Momota must have gotten a letter, with someone’s name? If I can, I should try to go over it with him. If I can’t…_ Flashbacks of not being able to breath, being choked alive by nothing but air and his foot feeling as though he were at death’s door despite being blind in that realm hits him hard.

The sunset goes down rather quickly today, and Saihara can’t help but feel a little more accomplished than he was at the beginning, back when Ryoma was calling his cat by his own name. Saihara during the time there looks at his phone, to see the guy in question has sent him a singly message.

**Hoshi Ryoma:** Russian blues often have contrasting eyes of green that pop out of their gray slate fur. And their eyes are always green unless there is a problem with them, while if you believe a Russian blues have green eyes, then it is most likely a chartreux cat.

_8:42 PM_

 _No I did not. Is… this message a mistake? And if so, why would he send someone a fact about this kind of thing?_ Saihara decides not to respond, instead tucking his phone back in his school bag and shuffling with his hat a little before their time there ends. 

Someone there at the desk seems to be complaining about them so they try to rush by after paying, and they unanimously go to one of the convenient stores to get snacks rather than a proper dinner, sitting near a rest place near the park, near where the bridge is. Harukawa complains that there was no real way to track who won when Momota forgot to count, making him tell back that nobody told him he should be counting. 

It’s somewhat familiar, in a sense that a scene liked this happened in the future, where none of them will remember this and they’re stuck in a place where they have to kill each other, yet they still decide to. It makes Saihara laugh, when he realizes this is happening because of _him._ It’s a joke, but it’s not. It’s laughable because everything makes him feel insane and as though this is some sort of long-lost fantasy only he remembers. Harukawa keeps pushing him, and Momota argues a girl shouldn’t stay so late at night, though he doesn’t do anything when Harukawa is visibly threatening him in a joking way that Saihara wonders about. They talk about the stupid things in life, like what percentage of people Momota has beaten up wore a bright green shirt, and that cat of Harukawa’s that doesn’t exist, and how Saihara looks like a cat when you look at him in the eyes.

Saihara meows boredly at that, and the other two watching him do that erupt into laughter. The snack he got was a little too sweet for his taste, so he switched it out with Harukawa, who has squid rice crackers which she makes a sour face at. Momota makes a joke about chopping a squid in half and then eating it alive, and although it's over exaggerated, it makes Harukawa giggle.

They all go home after getting bored of throwing rocks in the river (Somebody saw them and yelled at them not to do that), Saihara deciding to bring Harukawa home and them talking about the letter on the way there, and when Saihara goes home, his uncle is there in his study. 

He brings him the food and his uncle seems thankful, sliding something over the table, which Saihara finds is a file of something. “Here you go. Thought you’d want it.” _A file._ It reminds Saihara of illegal trading, and he smiles at his uncle. They both know what this is.

“Thanks.” They laugh for a small bit, and Saihara leaves, brushing his teeth and showering in no specific order, watching in the mirror as his yellow eyes shift around uncomfortably. He turns away and talks some more with Iidabashi, setting up the situations and how the thing would work and getting an update on what is happening. 

He goes to sleep and shuts his eyes tight, feeling as though someone was still watching him. He tries to ignore it, but it follows him as his thoughts drift away. And tomorrow, he’ll meet up with Ouma, and Saihara wonders if he himself will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No polls today! Sorry. Anyways, just to clarify, since I have no idea how any time works, we'll be using East Pacific ocean time.  
> If you don't know how that works, 1 AM is midnight, 7 AM to 11 AM is before lunch, 12 AM to 2 PM is lunch, 3 PM to 7 PM is afternoon and then 8 PM to 10 PM is dinner and dessert time, and then after that is where most people tend to fall asleep. Thanks for reading, and have a good day.
> 
> Thank you to the two guests who kudos-ed and next chapter there


	37. Ouma, Saihara, and Coffee Shops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah… Hi.” Saihara waves in almost shy motion, a jar of purple flowers in the other. Ouma’s head snaps up quickly, eyes still large and a small scratch on his cheek, and another showing on his wrist, his hand holding onto a cup of something Saihara wasn’t sure of.

“Ah… Hi.” Saihara waves in almost shy motion, a jar of purple flowers in the other. Ouma’s head snaps up quickly, eyes still large and a small scratch on his cheek, and another showing on his wrist, his hand holding onto a cup of something Saihara wasn’t sure of.

“... H-Hi.” Ouma mirrors Saihara’s action, and he almost hits the bottom of his cup with his wrist. He pauses, his hand still in the air before it can hit the cup, staying in the air for _1, 2, 3_ more seconds before it drops completely onto his lap.

Saihara decides to start speaking after Ouma stays like that for a moment, eyes falling down below the table he was sitting at. “I’ll go… uh, order something.” _That would be for the best right now, and then I can ask him why he wanted to meet me here._ “... Yeah.” Saihara sets down his jacket and the jar of flowers he was holding down, slowly shuffling himself to the cafe counter.

Somebody- A woman, looking around near his age, with wild strawberry hair that moves whenever she turns, pale blue empty eyes that stare back at Saihara a little too cautiously- shows him a small, too forced smile, holding her arms tight as she awaits his order.

“I’d like the thai tea, half and half with milk.” Saihara asks, wondering why she looks to be… _Ah, she looks like Miu Iruma._ Though Saihara isn’t too sure, as it would be rather weird to assume that the first person that looks like who was described in the envelope to be _that_ person. 

Saihara glances at her nametag.

_Miu Iruma._

He pauses, not quite sure what to think of that. If he were to make a move right now or at any time, really, then he would seem as though he were hitting on her, so that would not be of his best interests. _But then again… Not right now._

“Alright!” Iruma says in a strained, cheerful voice, “Your number is #52 and…” She glances behind herself, “uh- You’re supposed to pay now.” _Ah, right. I should probably go do that._ Saihara pulls out his wallet and puts the number down, and goes back to sit down wherever Ouma was sitting down.

Saihara relaxes in the chair in front of Ouma, watching Ouma freeze up in almost a comical way and choke his cup of green, not-quite-normal liquid with his pale hands. The rotting flowers in a jar (The flowers being the ones Saihara paid for at Mrs. Scooterk’s flower shop, that he managed to hide in the kitchen, as his uncle rarely comes in there, along with the wild roses) left untouched. _And Ouma hasn’t questioned it yet either._

“So…” Saihara starts, “Why did you want to meet me here today, Mr. Liar?” Ouma seems to flinch at that, purple eyes fulgurating around the shop, as though he were in a haunted mansion and that was the only way he could survive. But instead, they were here, in some off-coast coffee shop in a situation Saihara wasn’t sure to make of. _It’s not boring, per say, but it’s not exactly enjoyable from that outburst Ouma broke into the last time we met._

Ouma makes a tight face, worry spreading on it. “I-I…” He looks down, guilty. His voice goes smaller than a whisper, “Sorry… I-I… I wasn’t thinking, and y-you said something that was r-rude…” Genuine or not, Saihara accepts it, doing a quick nod before replying.

“Yeah.” Perhaps he was expecting more, because Ouma seems a little shocked by that reply. An apology back as well? Or perhaps something more curious, something that would make him sound more interested. Well, if that was so, that would be Saihara _exaggerating_ , and he doesn’t enjoy exaggerating a lot. “Anyways, anything else less…” _boring?_ “in the past.” Saihara spares Ouma’s mind of his harshness.

“W-What?”

“Oh yeah. That reminds me. It’s been like, seven days? Seven days… yeah, a week since we last saw each other and there are a lot of questions I have to ask you.” Saihara says, tapping his fingernails at the table boredly. He looks up at Ouma, to see he is if not at least confused, anxious. “Seven days, right?”

“... Y-Yeah.” Ouma confirms, his hair bouncing up and down as he nods along. “Er- the bodies!” He almost says it in a shout, and the only other customer gives him a glare, to which he awkwardly smiles back in apology. “The- The people, black-masked.”

“Ah, I remember them.” Saihara adds. “Is that why you came to such a reclusive coffee shop? But why not DICE?” Ouma avoids Saihara’s gaze when he sees that, hands perched on his lap. “Or is that another secret I’m not allowed to know?”

“You _accused_ me of being connected to..!” Ouma raises his voice, before sighing, hands trembling as he continues, “Y-You can know… Ace wanted me to apologize and pay for your drink, but…” He looks up at Saihara, and his voice goes lower, “ _that’s a lie_.”

“I see.” Saihara says, “So you just didn’t want to pay.” Ouma eeps at that, guilty as charged. “Is that all? Or do you have more to say?” Saihara taps on the top of his jar, slowly tilting his head at Ouma. 

“ _Impatient_. A-Ah, anyways, yes?” Ouma says in his small, awkward voice. “So… S-So I’m forgiven?” Saihara nods, “And we’re still friends?” Saihara nods again, before pausing. Ouma leans back into his chair, sighing almost dramatically. “T-Thank god…”

“That’s all?” Saihara raises his eyebrow.

“No,” deadpans Ouma, “T-That’s a lie though…” Ouma head falls again, furrowing his brows into a sad expression. His voice goes back shaky, “Y-You can start.” Saihara would laugh at that, but he decides not to, instead shifting his cap before putting it on.

“Ah, thank you for clarifying for me Ouma.” Ouma flinches for a moment at his name, uncomfortably drinking his strange beverage, “Here, I got flowers for you because I was bored.” _Bored. Funny word. Really funny word. Reminds me, I should start cleaning my room._ “Uh- yeah, I just assume it would be purple because you kind of have a lot of purple stuff of purple…” Saihara p0auses, “Uh- No, I mean purple stuff- _Just_ purple stuff.” Back when Saihara first met Yonaga, Saihara went into Ouma’s room. He remembers searching through it a little before giving up, not being able to find anything. “Yeah, purple stuff.”

Ouma lets a small smile go to his face, “I see you noticed. But, why… flowers?”

Saihara has no reason not to tell the truth, “Someone keeps on giving me flowers at school-”

“O-Oh no.”

“- Roses, actually.”

“Ah.” Ouma looks at Saihara, opening his mouth for a moment before someone interrupts him, a shout of the number Fifty-two. _Ah, that’s the number for my drink_. Saihara sits up, glancing behind him and saying;

“You can look at them, but I haven’t really been paying much attention to them, so… Yeah, you can have them now. And maybe take some of the roses I have in my house,” Ouma jerks at that, face turning red from the implications. _I should correct that_. “Because I have too many.” Ouma does a small nod while Saihara goes back to the barista counter to get his stuff, where a blonde-hair leans forward on the counter, doing an amused smile.

Saihara gives Iruma a grimace.

“Cute couple,” She says in a teasing voice, and Saihara would correct her but he didn’t want to stay for too long. Iruma chirps at him, “Here’s your coffee, sir!” It feels weird for a person his age to call him _sir_ , but he ignores that and grabs his drink, which is in fact not coffee.

When he sits back down, Ouma seems to be staring intently at the purple flowers, a small smile on his face and his elbows on the table, hands on his cheeks and his cheeks blushing a pale pink on his white skin. He jumps up when he sees Saihara sitting down, eyes going wide as though he was a rabbit caught by a fox.

“Okay, I’m back. I’m not quite sure what you got, but I got something as well,” Saihara says quite ominously, “Why… I won’t question that. Anyways, have you gotten any strange letters this week?” Ouma sits up straight, hair bouncing up as he does and frowning at Saihara.

“Er- P-Pardon me?” He says in his weak voice, arms shaking. “Letter? W-What do you mean, S-Saihara?” He puts his drink to his mouth after asking, and Saihara ponders if he will be able to even say anything about it. _For some strange reason, I could tell Harukawa, but would I be able to tell Ouma..? What if I actually die this time?_

Saihara tries not to think about it. _If I die, that would be… fun._ Saihara almost bursts into laughter if not for Ouma. “A letter. Like, anything weird in the mail.” _Weird in the mail. Not much, just a letter with some weird signature I bet, that describes you from your past_. 

“Ah…” Ouma’s eyes go wide, and he seems to understand for a moment, “N-No..?” Saihara isn’t too sure if that is a lie, or what Ouma’s purpose would be to lie about that, but he just nods along. Ouma whispers something under his breath and takes another sip of his drink.

“Really?” Saihara questions, and Ouma gives a small, slow nod with a quivering smile. “Okay then… What else did I want to tell you? I think… uh- Right, my friend really wants to meet who I’ve been seeing-”

“Ah- Wait, _w-what_?”

“as my friends, so may I introduce her to you?” Saihara asks, swirling the straw in the tea. 

“S-Sure..?” Ouma stutters, leaning forward a little and drinking some more of whatever the _fukcing hell_ is his drink. “I-I mean, don’t you have anyone better to… S-Sorry!” Saihara puts his hand up as if to say it’s fine, and continues. 

“Certain people.” He clarifies, muttering the last part under his breath, “Anyways, so no on the letter then, and yes on the other one.” Saihara starts speaking louder, looking Ouma in the eye. Ouma, in reaction to that, flinches, amethyst eyes turning away. Saihara blurts out, “So I got a new person working on the website.”

“The… website?” Ouma asks, until he seems to get it, cheeks blushing in embarrassment for not remembering. “A-Ah, right, I almost forgot… um, what is their name? N-Not to sound too forceful or anything..!” 

“K1-B0.” Saihara recites, and Ouma knits his brows together, confused. “It’s their name on the thing. It would be rude to say their real name without them knowing, wouldn’t it?” Ouma nods his head, rubbing his arm for a moment, “Which reminds me, I need to get rid of the merch in my room…”

“H-Huh?” Ouma seems startled by this, “B-But… why?” 

Saihara shrugs, “Don’t know. Maybe I just got bored of looking at the same things, maybe my uncle told me it was annoying.” That was a lie, “Or maybe I changed my ways- Heh, that would be funny.”

“Changed your ways? B-But you seem like a pretty good person to me…” Ouma argues weakly, or maybe he isn’t arguing, just telling Saihara his beliefs. Who knows? “You e-even helped that one girl, and helped Clubs not get…” Saihara wonders what he is about to say next, but Ouma looks down at his phone and widens his eyes.

“A-Ah! Oh- Oh n-no…” Ouma mutters, phone in hand and standing up, “Uh- I h-have to go, Saihara, b-bye! And, u-um, thank you for the f-flowers!” Ouma glances at Saihara, narrowing his eyes for a moment before rushing out a little too fast, a little too panicked. _Like a squirrel_. 

“Bye.” Saihara waves aimlessly, when Ouma already left and he was left in the quiet, relaxing-but-not-quite-relaxing atmosphere, alone with a changed barista and a man typing something in the corner of the shop. _I’ve been to too many coffee shops lately. I should…_

… Should go. Saihara should leave and never come back.

Saihara grabs his jacket, stuffing it on and walking out the shop with his drink in hand, looking up at the sky, the sidewalk, the too green shop next to the coffee shop, the texts of spam Harukawa is giving him because at the end of yesterday, he forgot to give her information. Saihara wonders… why he’s actually doing this. _Interesting, interesting. Because it’s interesting_ . He reminds himself with ease, _because I planned on disappearing soon anyways. Ah, but of course, because that’s interesting._

Saihara hums to himself, 

_Rantaro Amami, Kaede Akamatsu, Hoshi Ryoma, Kirumi Tojo, Angie Yonaga, Tenko Chabashiro, Korekyio Shinguji, Iruma Miu, Gonta Gokuhara, Kokichi Ouma, Kaito Momota, Tsumugi Shirogane, Kiibo Iidabashi, Himiko Yumeno, Maki Harukawa. Was there anyone else..?_

_Ah, right._

_I’m a player in this game as well._

* * *

_Dear_ _S̶̸̶̸̸̵̵̴̶̵̵̶̸̵̸̶̶̡̢̢̨̢̢̢̢̧̡̡̨̢̛̛̕͘͘͜͟͢͢͢͟͟͢͢͢͢͢͡͠͞͡͝͞͡͝͞ḩ̶̵̵̵̴̴̡͘͘͘̕͟͠͠͡͠͡͡҉̴̴҉̴̸̵̶̸̴̸̶̨̨̨̢̡̨̧̢̨̛̛̛͘̕̕͟͜͟͢͢͟͢͢͜͝͞u҉̴̵̵̶̵̴̧̧̧̢̨̛̕͘͟͜͢͜͞͞͠͡͡҉̢̧̧̛̕͟͜͢͠͝҉̵̢̧҉̴̶̵̴̷̧̢̧̧̡̛͞͞͝҉҉i̧͜҉̸̡͘͟͟͝҉̴̵̴̵̸̨̡̡̛҉̵̵̸̷̵̷̛͘̕͜͜͟͡͠͞҉̶̶̷̸̴̷̨̨̛͘͟͟͞͡͞҉̸̛̛͟͞͠c̶̸̸̵̨̢̕̕͜͜͟͝͝͠͞͝҉̷̨͝͠҉̵̸̸̷̵̷̶̷̵̵̷̷̢̢̨̨̧̨̡̧̛̕͘͘͘͜͜͟͟͢͡͞͡͝͝͡h҉̴̸҉̶̵̸̸̴̧̛̛͢͢͠͡҉̢̛̛͡҉̵̷̷̵̴̶̸̴̴̶̴̨̢̛͟͡͞͝͠͝͡͡҉̴͘͘͟͞͝҉̷̶̵͟͠͡i̵̸̸̵̴̶̧̧̡̨̧̨̡̛͘͘̕͟͟͟͟͝͠͠҉̸̸̢̧҉҉̸̴̷̸̵̷̶̡̧̢̛̛͘͢͞͝͡͠͡͝ ̴̢̢͜҉̶̷̸̷̷̷̴̨̨̢̢̢̧̢̢̡̡̢̛̛̛̛̛̕̕̕͟͢͢͜͟͜͢͞͠͞͠͠͠͠͡͝҉̶̵̡̕͜͡͡S̶̴̸̴͢͟͟͜͜͞҉͘͟͝͞͠͞҉̵̷̷̷̷̶̸̸̷̨̢̢̡̛̛̕͘̕̕̕͘͘͘͜͢͢͜͟͟͟͜͝͞͡͠͠͠͡͞͠a̧̨̢̧̨̛̛͘͘͢͡͝͝͠͝҉̴̷̶̶̷̸̸̵̵̶̶̴̵̵̸̶̡̧̨̨̨̡̡̛̛͢͢͟͢͜͝͞͝͞͝͝͠͡͝i͠҉̵̷̸̸̵̴̶̵̴̶̴̶̶̡̨̢̧̢̛̛̛̛̕̕͘̕͟͜͟͠͡͠͝҉҉̸̛҉̸̧̨̨̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛͜͢͡͠͡͝͞h̴̵̷̷̶̷̵̶̷̶̶̵̷̡̧̨̡̡̡̨̛̛̕͘͟͟͟͜͜͞͠͝͠͝͡͞͡҉̸̸̴̶̷̵̨̧̢̡̛̛̛̕͘͘͟͟͞a͘͠҉̕͟҉̶̸̵̴̵̵̴̶̶̷̵̢̧̧̨̧̧̢̛̛̛̛͘͘͘͘͘͘͜͢͢͟͜͟͢͜͟͢͟͢͠͠͞͞͠͠͞r̶̶̡̨̛̛̕͜͜͜͟͜͝͡͝͡҉̷̴̶̴̶̴̴̧̢̡̢̢̧̧̡̛̛̕͘̕̕͜͜͢͢͢͜͞͠͡҉̶҉̶̵̵̨̡̨̧͢͞a̵̢̕͘͟͡͝͠҉̵̶̴̧̧̛͜͜͡͞҉̶̡̕͘͜͞҉̵̴̶̶̶̴̶̵̧̧̡̨̧̨̡̢̛̕͘͘͜͜͢͜͡͡͠͡͝͞_

_,K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝ Please kill... ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞K̷̸̡̢̢͢͞͞҉̢̢҉̕i̸̧̡̛͘͜͢͡҉̷̢͠l̵̢̛͢҉̴̶̢̧͠͡͠l҉͟͝҉̷̡͜͠҉̨͞ ̵̶̧̢̡̛͘͜͢͜͟͡͞t̴̸̴̡͘͢҉̡҉̵͜h̡͝҉̷̧̨̨̕̕͢͜͟e҉҉̴̴̷̶̶͜͢͢͟͝m̴̢̛̕͜͢͟͠͝͝ ̵̸̨̨̢̡͘͘͜͟͠͞k̸̶̛͘͘͘͟͜͠͞͠͞į̴̴̶̢̛̛͘͜͜͠͝l̴̵̡̧̡̧̛̕͜͝͞͠l̴̷̶̡̨̧̧͠҉̡̛͠ ̵̴̷̴̨̕͟͜͟͟͞҉̨t̸̴̡̕͜͜҉͢͝҉̶̕͟h̢̛͜͠҉҉̶̶̛͝͠e҉̶̷̴̧̡̡͟͝͝҉͜m̷̢͠҉̧̧̨͢͡҉̡҉ ̵̨̛̕͟͠͡҉̡͟͝͝k̸̵̴̶̴̴̡̧͜͜͝͞͠i̶̸̵͞҉҉̵̴̡͘͜͝l̕͜͡͡҉̶̧̧̛͘͘l̸̸̷̨̛̛͢͢͜͝҉ ̴̴̸̸̨̨̛͘͘͜͜͟ţ̵̷̴̨̡̡̕͟͜͝͠ḩ̸̵̷̡̡̨̢̧͡͝͡͡e͝͠͡҉̛҉҉̶̴̢͢m҉̷̸̢͜͜͟͢͟͟͠͡ ̵̷̷̧̢̕̕̕̕͞͠͡p̵̵̶̛̕̕͘͢͟͝͠ļ̸̵̶̷̨̕͘͘̕͢͡e̡͟҉̨̢̢̧̨͘̕͟a̛͝҉̴̨̡̡͘͜͢͡͞͠s̵̶̴̨̧͘͟͢͠͡͡͞e̶̶̴̛̕͢͟͞͝͠ ̸̢̨͘͜͢͡͡͞͠͠͡j̴̸̶̡̢̕̕͜͢͟͝͡ų̢̡̛͘͜͜͞͡͡͝s̷̡̡̛̕̕͘͠҉̨̧͡͠ţ̸̴̢̡̡̧̕͢͟͜͞͝ ̴̴̸̨̡̧͘͜͢͟͡͡k̷̴̵̢̨̛̛͘͜͟͝i̴̶̶̶̡̢̧̡̕͘͠͞l̶̸̵̷̢̛̕̕͟͢͜͞͡ļ̵̵̛͘͘̕͜͜ ͢҉͡҉̵̸̧҉̧̛͘̕͟t̴̵̸̨̨̨̨̡͢͟͢͞͠ḩ̵̛̕͘͜͢͢͢͜͡͡͝e͡͞҉̶̷̨̕͢͢͡͞m҉̵̷̡̢̨͘͢͠͡͡͞ Y̶̨͘͡o҉̵͏u̵̷̵̧͜ ҉̷͜a͞ŗ͢҉̨ę̡ ̸͜g͏̸͠ơ̶̸͏i̧̛͝n̕͟͟҉g̴̴ ̨͝t͡͠͝ǫ̷̷ ̷̷͘d̴͡͏͘i̧̨̕e̶͜͡͏._

[one vote](https://strawpoll.com/oc6816huo)

[second vote](https://strawpoll.com/wfcvreh7r)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [one vote](https://strawpoll.com/oc6816huo) and the less important vote you don't have e too vote on which is [second vote](https://strawpoll.com/wfcvreh7r)
> 
> Im sorry this is bad, thank you to shuki and the three guests! And oh- I guess this has reached 100 kudoes-ed... ah, wait- wait what


	38. A Midnight Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ultimate Detective, the Ultimate Assassin, the Ultimate Astronaut, the Ultimate Survivor, and the Ultimate Supreme Leader, sitting on the floor of Saihara’s bedroom, Harukawa throwing Saihara’s shirt across the room, Amami rolling a significant piece of paper in his hand, Momota shifting in his seat, and Ouma… doing something, Saihara wasn’t too sure what he was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm changing the set-up so you can know which is the more serious part. I'm writing my really notes up here and my thank-you's and voting polls, also! In case you are new and enjoy reading this, but either don't have an account for the straw polls or don't think you _can_ vote, you actually can! Since the votes are anonymous, you don't need an account, and there are really no repercussions for voting except I'll be counting it in.
> 
> Also, I updated it on Sunday because I had a chapter complete on Saturday, and the next chapter doesn't equally have anything to do with this because the next chapter is Sunday in their world...

Momota. Momota and Harukawa. The Ultimate Astronaut and the Ultimate Assassin. At his house, sitting five feet apart. At Saihara’s house, sitting on each side of Saihara on the carpet of his bedroom, along with Amami, who was sent by Akamatsu as a replacement for her, as she had to practice non-stop for her recital, apparently. Ouma sat across Harukawa, eyes flickering around in panicked motion. 

The Ultimate Detective, the Ultimate Assassin, the Ultimate Astronaut, the Ultimate Survivor, and the Ultimate Supreme Leader, sitting on the floor of Saihara’s bedroom, Harukawa throwing Saihara’s shirt across the room, Amami rolling a significant piece of paper in his hand, Momota shifting in his seat, and Ouma… doing something, Saihara wasn’t too sure what he was doing.

The reason being for everyone gathered and getting introduced at exactly midnight the same day Ouma apologized to Saihara? Because Harukawa, when Saihara got a call from her in the middle of the night, screaming in his ear that suddenly, she got a strange letter saying something with all their names, and something about a threat.  _ A threat, not particularly to do anything with the game, but it has the same signature as all the other letters, yet Maki could tell it to me… It sounds interesting enough. _

Harukawa came over even when Saihara insisted that it wouldn’t be the best time for her to go out, and before Saihara could pass out on his bed, more people were coming over. After introductions and a survey of questions for why Saihara suddenly invited them and started sounding like a girl, Harukawa slaps down the letter and explains.

“Wha..?” Amami furrows his brows, leaning forward with legs criss-crossed, “I understand Kaede and me, and even Saihara, but why is everyone else here? And those names… “ Amami presses his hand to his chin.

“What I wanna know is why all you weirdos were awake.” Momota shrugs, not helping much. He seems more bothered by the pillow of Kyoko Kirigiri in Saihara’s arm rather than the threat letter. “And why is she the only girl here!?”

“U-Uhm… “ Ouma speaks up, uncomfortably shifting as Amami passes the letter to him. His eyes shift around the context and he winces before continuing, “T-Technically... Kirigiri is also here… “ In spirit, Ouma. In spirit. Momota gives him a glare and Ouma flinches away. He manages to eep out words, “A-Anyways! Why would someone send a death threat with o-our names, and then send it to… um.” He pauses, glancing at Harukawa.

“Her name is Maki Harukawa.” Saihara helps explain, trying to balance the situation, “And don’t bully anyone, Momota.” Momota gives out a  _ hey! _ Punching Saihara’s shoulder a little too hard, “I happen to know all these people, and most of them have a famous relative or so, but some don’t… I do have a theory though.” The signature at the front is the same as the one on his letters, and it has all of the future participants in the killing game, so a theory to connect to that is obvious.

“Well, stop trying to go to sleep and out with it, Shuichi.” Harukawa says, “And, wait- Isn’t that the pillow you were s-” Saihara interrupts her, hand going up and over her mouth to block her from saying anymore. 

“I can’t.” Saihara simply tells everyone. “So is there… Is there any reasons you guys know of that would want someone to threaten you, because I can think of several.”  _ Several reasons that could have gotten me the privilege of a threat letter before ten days ago.  _

“Several..? Well, lately, I have been getting quite a few death letters,” Amami pauses, “but they were from my sister, and they certainly didn’t have this weird signature… Is that English?” Amami looks down, and Ouma brings the envelope out for everyone to see. 

“English? If it was or Russian, then I should be able to read it.” Momota explains, and Harukawa gives him a shocked look, “Why are ya’ looking at me so weird!? Stop it.” Momota waves at her looks of surprise and turns to Ouma, “And I know one reason, and it could be cuz’ lately, I got two letter with the same-” Momota stops for a moment, feeling around his neck and sighing in something Saihara would compare to relief. “Nevermind.”

Ouma narrows his eyes, leaning forward with his hand on his cheek, before looking at Saihara, “I-It could be because of C-Clubs..? But I doubt so.” Saihara blankly nods, “And I-I’m not too sure why then would send it to H-Harukawa though…” He frowns.

“My head is empty on that part too.” Amami adds, leaning back and stretching, “I wouldn’t mind going to the place on the letter though!  _ Become the sacrifice, _ as Akamatsu would say.” Momota quickly passes the letter to Saihara after not reading it, and Saihara reads over it.

A threat that if Harukawa and Momota don't meet someone in a certain classroom at a familiar school after school, then something horrible will happen to Ouma. It’s typed out and the paper is entirely blank except for the words, and on the back is everybody in the game’s name.  _ Didn’t Maki and Momota hate Ouma in the game? That’s a funny coincidence. But why would they want to meet at Akamatsu and Amami’s school?  _ That rich kid school. 

“No.” Saihara shakes his head.

After an awkward moment of Saihara leaning his head back into his bed and shutting his eyes, and then having Momota punch him on the shoulder again and making him make a whine. “T-That’s… a new sound.” Ouma notes down.

“I think what Shuichi is trying to say is that it would be safer if Momota and I go instead of you… Amami, correct?” Harukawa explains, “Hey Shuichi, I swear to fucking god if you fall asleep I’ll make your uncle come in here and spray alcohol on you.”

“Jokes on you, he doesn’t drink alcohol. He drinks coffee, get it right.” Saihara mutters, though he does stand up, “Though…” He looks down at Ouma, “Ouma, Harukawa, and Momota. Those are the only three that have to physically do anything. But even so, it still has everyone else’s names for some reason.”

“Reminds me of bingo.” Momota points out, “Y’know, that game where you go like, woosh, woosh, and you win cuz’ you say bingo!” Saihara decides not to point out how everyone already knows that game, “Hey Shuichi, bro, also you said you would pay me sooo…”

“God, just let me fucking sleep.” Saihara groans.

Amami decides to speak up, deadpan, “But didn’t you invite us here?” Saihara shakes his head tiredly, pointing to Harukawa. “Ah, okay then. I really do wonder about this though… Why would it have all these people’s names that apparently only Saihara knows all of? And why only give it to Harukawa rather than handing this to Momota  _ and  _ her and why a classroom at my school? And why threaten only Ouma?”

“I mean, the kid looks pretty small and does seem defenseless.” Momota says, “I could just flick him across the room.” Ouma uncomfortably shifts further away from Momota. “But why would I do that without getting paid?”

“Stop talking about money. It hurts my head.” Amami groans, “It didn’t have a date as well though, and… Sorry, am I talking too much?” Saihara shrugs, yawning.

“I just want to go to sleep. And it’s a weekend day tomorrow, so I need to wake up early.” Saihara says, “Momota is strong, and Harukawa is… not weak, so I’m sure that if there is someone that shows up, and wants to start attacking them, Momota can always start pummeling them with punches, and Ouma can pick up a fight enough, since I think… I think I should do the dishes tomorrow… No, wait.” Saihara stares down at his hand, trying to remember if he should do the dishes or not.  _ We’re good on groceries I know, but do we have anything else? _

“Ugh… Ouma, attack Saihara then. I want to see how good you are at fighting.” Harukawa demands, and Saihara scowls at her, “Hey! I’m just here wondering how I got sent a threat letter and none of you are really helping.” Saihar goes back to shutting his eyes when Ouma doesn’t do anything, sitting there with fleeting eyes.

“I’m helping.” Amami argues.

“If I could help, I would.” Momota says, “Pretty sure the only thing we can do now though is wait though, and when we meet them, we gotta ask them why they sent this shit!” Momota grins, putting his fists together. “Wait, Shuichi, bro, are ya’ awake?”

“But I can always go, Momota.” Amami adds, “I wouldn’t mind getting hurt, and because it has certain names for who they want to meet, there might be a catch and we don’t want that to happen. So it may be safer if I go. Of course, we could bring weapons.” Saihara tilts his head so he can relax better, head already drifting away into sleep.

“If you bring weapons, the school might find out.” Harukawa tells Amami, “I honestly don’t think we should go at all, because of the risk. There are cameras in the classrooms, aren’t there? We can ask the school to check after showing them the letter and then see who sent this.” 

“But what about the boy-”

“Ouma. He introduced himself to you so please use his name.” Amami tells Momota, “Someone can watch over him until we make sure we’re safe and the person is caught if we actually go with that. Which I would nominate Saihara, since he is the only one who actually knows him.”

“Mn…” Saihara adds to the conversation helpfully.

“P-Please stay awake, Saihara.” Ouma asks, his voice going into a whisper, “S-Saihara, we are talking a-about a threat letter, p-please stay awake.”  _ Not threatening me, so I shouldn’t care. _

“Threatening that boy you found c-” Harukawa starts to say, and Saihara can  _ hear _ a smile on her face. He snaps his eyes open, covering her mouth with his hand again and she smacks it away.

“I wish I was  _ dead _ .” Saihara says in an exhausted voice, “What I think we should do is wait until Monday after school, and I think...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Vote: [Worm](https://strawpoll.com/vf5s77j71)
> 
> Thank you to the one guest for kudos-ing!


	39. Breakfast Leftovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What I think we should do is wait until Monday after school, and I think...”
> 
> “We can all go and set up a trap. Now let me go sleep for god’s sake.” Saihara tells them, “Leave, die, kill yourselves I don’t give a crap. Just let me _sleep_.” Saihara stands up, sitting down on his bed instead of the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, was I late today or what? Yeah, I'm not too sure what happened there. I was up late last night looking at stuff, and I came across [You're live on Monomi radio!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085653/chapters/2183656). And I _liked_ it. So when I woke up, I finished reading that and liked it _even more_.
> 
> So yeah, I'd say it was pretty good.

“We can all go and set up a trap. Now let me go sleep for god’s sake.” Saihara tells them, “Leave, die, kill yourselves I don’t give a crap. Just let me  _ sleep _ .” Saihara stands up, sitting down on his bed instead of the floor.

Ouma is the first one to speak up after that, “H-Huh? Are you… r-really tired, Saihara?” Saihara throws a small Monokuma collectable plush at him, and he flinches. Amami seems partly amused by the exchange as he grabs the plushie out of Ouma’s hair.

“Isn’t it the weekend tomorrow?” Amami unhelpfully points out, throwing the plushie to Momota, looking at the tag of it. “Can't we just… I don’t know, do what teens do when they’re over at 1 AM?” Harukawa gives him a half glare, half baffled look. “Hey- Why give me that look? Saihara, why is she glaring at me!?”

“Because that’s such a stupid idea! Why is the guy I’ve never spoken to or heard of the one suggesting this idea, and not like, Momota or Ouma?” Harukawa complains, she turns her head to stare at the shut-eyed Saihara, “Saihara, don’t fall asleep yet!”

Momota looks deep in thought for a moment, “Ain’t you a girl?” 

“What else would I be?” Harukawa says, brows furrowing, “ _ Noooo, I’m NOT a girl _ \- Yes, Momota, I am indeed a girl, in case you didn’t know.” Momota gives her a dazed look, before snapping out of it and widening his eyes.

“Wha!?- Of course I know you’re a girl! You- You have the, uh, boobs and stuff, right? And you look like ‘em as well and-” Momota pauses, before stuffing his head down and groaning. “I swear, purple midget kid… avocado guy! I’m not always this stupid!”

Amami chuckles at that, “Anyways, it’s a rather dangerous time to go back out, especially for someone like Harukawa, and me as well. Can we stay over, Saihara? Er- Saihara? Saihara, are you awake?”

“I-I’ve been watching h-him sleep for a while…” Ouma explains, everyone looks at him, “S-Sorry! D-Did I saw something wrong..?” He tenses up, holding his arms together.

“Wait, I can wake him!” Momota says, standing up a little too quickly as the Monokuma plushie falls out of his hands. Harukawa grabs his hand, red eyes making his stop.

She opens her mouth, quiet words spilling out, “Don’t wake him. Saihara’s a bitch when he gets woken up by anyone he doesn’t respect.” That’s almost laughable apparently, because Amami suppresses laughter, Ouma awkwardly turning back between the green-haired boy and the brown-haired girl.

“He d-doesn’t respect you H-Harukawa?” Ouma asks, and Harukawa pauses. They talk some more about other things that they think matter, how they should set up the trap, and that somehow turns to how they met Saihara. Harukawa goes downstairs to talk to Saihara’s uncle for a moment and she ends up getting them canned drinks, so they stay up late at night with the lights turned on in a sleeping man’s room. Ouma seems to get hyper at one point, hiding in Saihara’s closet for a second before coming back out, Momota talks about money with Amami, Harukawa joining in eventually and Ouma nodding along silently.

Another empty dream, no progress made on why they happen, on what they could possibly mean. On who kept appearing in his dreams. Saihara gets a headache just thinking of it.

Saihara groans, waking up to the bright sun from his window. It was probably later than he would usually wake up, to which he says  _ fuck that _ . He doesn’t have school today so it’s not like it matters much, anyways.  _ Perhaps I shouldn’t have exaggerated the amount I wanted to sleep last night to that degree, but then again… _

Saihara stares at the blanket over him.

Flashbacks of last night fill his head, down to every detail. To the threat letter with the same signature as the two letters sent from him to his supposed future self, the plan,  _ make a trap, make a trap… That reminds me, are they still over?  _ Saihara glances around but to no avail is there anyone in sight.

His stomach gurgles and he wonders if he should eat breakfast.  _ I think… Yeah, I think I should eat breakfast today.  _ Saihara stands up, stretching, yawning before going to dress. A Monokuma plushie on the floor, his closet was a little shuffled, on his desk his computer was unplugged. It seems that last night when he was asleep, Harukawa- her or someone else was nosing around his room.

He walks down the stairs, to the kitchen, there’s something sizzling there, a strange sound and a burnt smell sets Saihara off to see what it is. Amami’s there, and Harukawa’s red eyes almost glare into the pan with burnt food.

Key word,  _ burnt food.  _ Saihara bites his lip, wondering if he should point that out first or say hi. Amami interrupts his deep thinking with a rude hello, “-Oh, morning Saihara.” He waves, before opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk.

“Good… morning.” Saihara says back slowly, sitting down on the seat and glancing around. “Amami, why are you still here? And why is the food burning?-  _ Why is there food? _ ” Harukawa gives him a hard glare and turns the fire off.

Harukawa speaks in place of Amami. “Because it would have been dangerous for us to go out, of course! What do you expect? And Amami was kind enough to make us all breakfast. Oh, and I’m helping.”

“He knows how to make food? Wow.” Saihara says out loud while Harukawa throws the food away.

Amami laughs at that, turning the fire for his pan off, “Well, I do make food for all my siblings, do not don’t think I  _ don't don’t know  _ how to cook. Ah, but I just warmed up leftovers, Harukawa is the one who was trying to make… pancakes, I think.” Amami explains, wordy, confusing sentences and all.

“I never knew I had ingredients for that.” Saihara notes. He glances around the room, “Is Ouma and Momota still here? Or did they leave?”

“Still here, both in the living room- Or whatever that room with a TV is for.” Amami explains, pointing to the room next to the kitchen. Saihara makes a quick conversation about why his room was a mess, and Harukawa replies with,  _ “No. It was your dog that did it _ . _ ”  _ Saihara decides not to speak to her anymore after that.

He walks slowly to see Ouma uncomfortably hunched over under the couch, reaching for something and Momota leaning over to something under the couch as well. They both flinch in an instant when Saihara slams the door open. “Uh-”

“Good morning.” Saihara rushes, before asking, “Now  _ who the fuck was searching through my closet? And who opened my laptop?”  _ Ouma’s eyes flickered wildly to Momota, the couch, and Saihara. 

Momota let a smile come to his face when he spoke, “It was Ouma.”  _ Ah, the smile of a snitch _ . 

Ouma starts his excuse, “I-I’m so sorry, S-Saihara… We w-were playing hide and s-seek before g-going to sleep-”  _ Hide and seek. They were playing hide and seek as teenagers at my house without me knowing.  _

“Wha? He’s lying!” Momota shouts, “Me, Ouma, and Amami, us three bros were searching for your po-” Ouma rushes to cover Momota’s mouth, eyes going wide with betrayal, before fear shrouding them. Saihara raises his eyebrow.

He squeaks out words, “N-No! We were… um, I-I wanted to see your merch… S-Sorry I l-lied…” Ouma looks down at his feet, “A-And right now, we t-thought we felt something u-underneath the c-couch so…” Saihara nods blankly.

“If I remember correctly, my uncle left an onion underneath the cushion while eating it, so we tend not to use it. Anyways, if you want any of it, I can just give it to you. But I don’t think it would…” Saihara’s eyes search up and down Ouma’s small body, “fit you.”

Ouma nods appreciatively, in awkward movements before Momota speaks.

“We were lookin’ for your porn stash, like real bros-” Ouma makes a weird squeaking noise, and Momota starts to say some more before Saihara shuts the door, starting to walk to his uncle’s study. Dim lights shine in, and papers are sprayed across the desk of Uncle Sygnomi. He peeks in to see his uncle isn’t there, most likely at work or asleep.

Meaning five teenagers in the morning left unsupervised in the house, and Saihara wouldn’t be too sure if Amami would be able to keep the house from burning.

_ … Perhaps I should force him to eat tonight. That means going to the police station and checking… I need to look at that case file my uncle gave me- Oh fuck _ . Saihara looks up the stairs, wondering if he hid it enough. Last night he was pretty tired, despite the relaxation of situations that day, and he thinks he put it under his bed… Saihara hopes.

When breakfast comes, or rather, leftovers even Saihara isn’t too sure how long he left alone has to be eaten because there’s nothing else to eat except for weird smelling burnt at the edge pancakes Ouma seems to fear, Saihara has to drag the extra chair in the dusty, claustrophobic piano room in order for them all to sit down. Amami insists that he doesn’t mind not eating and just sits in the 5th chair, looking at his phone.

They say their thank you’s, and start eating.

“I forgot to call Akamatsu about what happened yesterday, so I’ll go do that. She’s probably…” Amami glances at Saihara for a second, before turning away, “still doing a recital.” Ouma tilts his head at that, spoon in the air as his food slowly falls.

“P-Pardon me… but who is-” He starts, before Momota slams his elbows on the table rather in an unsophisticated way.

“So we didn’t ever find that por-”

Harukawa stops both of them from talking, hand flying up in the middle of the table. “Akamatsu is one of the people on that threat note, and Saihara and Amami know her.”

“That’s rather cold, Maki.” Saihara tells her, and she sighs, red eyes rolling.

“And  _ me _ , though I’ve known her for less than a week now and met her through Saihara. And she plays the piano.” Harukawa pauses, “and that’s her job.” Ouma does a slow nod of understanding, and she continues, “So anyways, Amami, you said she has a new recital coming up, where is the show?”

Amami shrugs, “Don’t know, she just told me… Nevermind, just don’t be surprised if it suddenly gets cancelled.”  _ Cancelled?  _ Saihara tilts his head at that, “Hey! Don’t look at me like that, Saihara. It’s a… Didn’t your parents text anything to you?” Saihara ponders, before shrugging.

“Bro, he has  _ parents _ ?” Harukawa glares at Momota, “W-What? Shuichi, my bro, she’s glaring at me, help! It’s not my fault I never noticed- I mean, I’m not judgin’!”

“T-That’s true… I-I never saw any of your parents here, but I a-always assumed t-that’s because t-they’re moving back…” Ouma says. Saihara almost gapes. “H-Huh? Did… you n-not know?”

“They’re moving back? To where? The USA? Because trust me, they were always in the- uh, America, right.” Saihara mouths yes, “There is no moving back when they’re already where they live.”

“They never told you?” Amami asks, and Saihara shakes his head, “I’m not too sure what you’re going on about, Harukawa, but they told the news they’re going to Japan to see their son for the holidays? American holidays.” Saihara blinks his eyes.

“ _ What? _ ” Harukawa asks, shocked, “Wait- Hold on, wh- They never told him. And trust me, he tells me everything he can. They’re actually coming back? How long ago did they say that? Did it have an approximated date?” Amami shrugs, leaning back into his chair.

Ouma starts drinking the tea Harukawa made as an apology for the weird pancakes. “They live in America?” Momota asks, “Ain’t that where all them- those weirdos live?” Ouma almost spits out his tea, choking, and- Oh, now he’s done.

“Are you okay, Ouma?” Saihara asks, giving him a napkin. He grabs it, his hair bouncing up and down as he agreed. They stop talking about Akamatsu and Saihara’s parents when Amami leaves the room to call her, and Momota is the first one to start talking.

“So where  _ did  _ you hide your por-” Ouma jumps to cover his mouth, which Momota fights against. Eventually, he manages to get the words out, “Why’re you keep on covering my mouth? You’re the one who got all curious last night-”

“N-No!” Ouma shouts, face turning red, “I-I… I was just, nnnnm…” He groans, sitting back down in silence.

“What happened last night exactly?” Saihara decides to question after thinking. Harukawa uncomfortably shifts while Ouma’s head sinks into the table. 

Momota grins in response to his question. “The purple midget-”

“Ouma, is his name.” Saihara corrects. He and Ouma glance at each other for a moment, “Unless that was a lie.” Ouma put his mouth into a tight line and Harukawa let out a laugh.

“Yeah, Kokichi, my bro, he got like, hyper? He got really high off of the Panta in the fridge, and suddenly started asking your sleepin’ self about where you got your stash, and nobody knew what to do ‘cuz he was actin’ pretty weird.”

“ _ He…”  _ Harukawa says, before falling into stiff laughter, “I-I’m sorry, Ouma, I-” She falls into the everlasting hole of laughter, hands going to her stomach and her head hitting the table, “Ow! Er- I’m sorry, Ouma, you- you… Now I want to be around  _ you _ when you're  _ drunk _ .”

“C-Can we please stop..?” Ouma asks.

“So then we went to go search for them things, but we couldn’t find them.” Momota says, eyes wide with surprise. Saihara lets a smile come to his face, “No,  _ really _ , where did you hide ‘em?”

Saihara decides not to lie, “I, so far, haven’t shown any interest in anyone.” Harukawa mutters something underneath her breath that Saihara doesn’t catch, “Why were you searching anyways, Ouma?” Ouma looks away from his gaze.

“That’s a good question.” Harukawa nods, a funny smile showing on her face.

Ouma awkwardly laughs, rubbing his arm, “I-I… can’t remember-”

“That’s a lie.” Saihara reveals, “Come on, Ouma. It’s not like any of us will be yelling and shouting and screaming in your ear, just because you say some weird thing like, I don’t know.” Saihara shrugs, “You wanted one for yourself.” Ouma’s face goes red, and he shakes his head deliriously. 

“N-No! I just wanted to…” Ouma shuffles his feet, looking down. His voice goes quiet, “wanted to know your type.” Momota makes a strange screaming, shouting, whining noise and jumps out of his seat, and Harukawa starts hysterically laughing at that. Saihara stays quiet for a moment.

“Well, I like a person that can.” Saihara pauses when Harukawa and Momota watch him, “I like a person that… uh, I like… I want a cat in the future, so someone not allergic to cats.” Harukawa groans at that question, punching Saihara’s shoulder. He gives her a deadpan, “Ow.”

“Wait… That’s not an answer.” His head jumps up, and he makes eye contact with Saihara. They stare at each other for a moment before Momota waves his hand angrily. “Ugh… Do ya’ actually have a type?”

“Saihara doesn’t understand natural human relationships,” Harukawa lazily groans, “Just- You had a good run, Ouma, now-” Amami walks in and they all stop. They eat some more, before they finish and they hang out a little bit before it turns awkward, and Amami says he should leave.

_That reminds me, I still have homework to do with Film Production, ugh… Perhaps I should have chosen Home Economics first before that._ _I can work on that with someone here, Momota, Harukawa, or Ouma, who can I work on my homework with..?_

_ I think I should work on it with... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Vote: [worm_2](https://strawpoll.com/gc615zd3a)
> 
> Thank you to quest- I meant guest, not quest. I'm not sure why I keep pressing the Q's. (Wow this is so interesting- why are you reading this)


	40. Camera Homework in a Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _That reminds me, I still have homework to do with Film Production, ugh… Perhaps I should have chosen Home Economics first before that._ _I can work on that with someone here, Momota, Harukawa, or Ouma, who can I work on my homework with..?_
> 
> _ I think I should work on it with… _
> 
> Saihara should work on it with Momota.

_ I think I should work on it with Momota. _

Saihara walks over to Momota, who is having the most peculiar argument with Harukawa about a boyfriend. She furrows her brows and looks at Saihara, frowning as though someone just told her she had to kick a dog and then dump it in the trash until it dies. Saihara gives her a smile in return- not apologetic, but rather out of amusement.

Harukawa scoffs, and Momota flashes a grin at both of them. 

“Well, guys, I think I should go now… probably. My sisters might celebrate that I’m dead and trash my room.” Amami awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his head with a small, forced smile. “Haha… Okay! Bye, Saihara, Harukawa, Momota, and…” Amami glances at Ouma, “Ouma.” Ouma nods, doing a small, fragile wave before Amami stuffs his shoes on and leaves.

“But actually, you never answered if you have a-” Momota starts, before Ouma begins talking before Momota can finish that crude question, his face fuzzing a red color that Saihara can’t quite place his finger on.

Ouma’s words are incomprehensible. “ _ SoI’mgoingtogoleaveandgobackhomesobye- _ ” He takes a deep breath, “And Saihara…” His eyes narrow a little, and he stops shaking. He ends his sentence in a small, “nevermind.”

“Sonia Nevermind?” Saihara tilts his head, and Harukawa chokes, “Ah. Are you okay Maki?” He puts his hand to Harukawa’s forehead, and she’s trying to suppress a laugh for some strange reason.

“Am I okay?” Harukawa asks, widening her eyes and hand lightly placed on her chest, “What a question to ask coming from you, Shuichi.” Momota makes a hearty laugh at that, “Have a good time, and have a safe trip back to wherever you live.”

“Ey, don't cha think it might be a lil’ hard for him to walk back so early? I mean, he slept in that one room with the rest of us bros, and he was shiftin’ through one of them files on the shelf instead of sleeping, cuz’ I was watching him the whole night.” Ouma freezes up, eyes going wide and uncomfortably rubbing his arm.

Saihara’s eyes drift from the taller and the smaller boy. “You both slept? Which room did you use?” Momota shrugs, and Ouma tries to speak only to shut his mouth.

“They slept in your uncle’s room, and don’t worry, your uncle confirmed they could use it.” His uncle knew they were over then, so Saihara doesn’t have to explain then.  _ That’s…  _ Saihara turns to Ouma,  _ which files did he look at? _

“Wait… Now that I’m thinking about it, ain’t that a little suspicious?” Momota asks, his brows knitting together. Saihara shrugs, lying because it would be too much not to.  _ Which files would Ouma even look at _

“I told him I would let him.” Saihara simply explains, though it’s a lie, “Right, Ouma?” Yellow eyes fall onto purple eyes looking up, opposite colors. Ouma doesn’t nod, nor does he speak. Saihara’s eyes go back to grey before anyone else can speak, “Anyways, if you’re leaving as well, I’m going to take Momota to the library.”

Momota gapes at them, the imagery making Harukawa laugh some more. If there could be a counter to measure how many times she has laughed today, then surely, Saihara thinks, surely it would be the highest out of the three boys and her. “Wait- When- Hey, Ouma, bro, please help!” Begging eyes looking down at the shorter boy.

“H-Huh?”

“You deserve it, Momota. Go to the library with your… ‘ _ bro’” _ She makes quotation marks in the air with a small smirk, “And don’t worry Shuichi, I didn’t sleep in the same room as them because I’m not as much of an idiot as this guy.” She doesn’t point fingers to anyone, but they all turn their eyes for even a second to stare at Momota. “I slept in the room your parents use when they come over.”

“His parents.” Ouma mutters quietly, nodding. It seems he remembers, although Saihara isn’t too sure what he remembers. “I-I’ll… I-I think I should go n-now…” Ouma makes an awkward leave, tucking his shoes on, and opening the front door. He turns around for a moment to stare at Saihara, and in a small voice whispered to him, and only him, “The file is left out.” And he leaves as well.

Three more left and Saihara waves at the two acquaintances there, going to go check his uncle’s room.  _ It doesn’t seem he is here, so I should go see what file Ouma was looking at. Unless he was lying _ . Saihara wonders, he really does.

“It would probably be… on the desk.” Saihara says in the quiet room of his uncle’s. He traces his finger over the desk,  _ dust _ . That wasn’t unusual, as his uncle rarely even used his room’s desk in place of his study, where he hid most of his files from no one. But other files his uncle forgets to bring back until three to two months after the reminder are most likely here, in this room, which wasn’t much of a surprise as Saihara thought it would seem. Books were lined up on shelves and shelves, the files usually hidden in between books.  _ They did say they were searching for such a weird topic, but did they really have to..?  _

_ No. No, they really didn’t. _

A single file shut on the desk, and Saihara opens the shut file.

Three pictures of the same crime scene, blood splattered over the scenes. Vivid shots, real, and Saihara remembers looking at this picture when he was younger. It was a little bit of an old case, so his uncle must have brought it to look at it again. The case was one of his uncle’s first solved as an official detective, a private investigator.

It was back when his uncle had more solid rules around the house, and even though he was a private investigator and could show it to whoever he wanted, he was rather strict on not showing it to young Saihara. The file fell from the table, the kitchen table from where his uncle could keep his eyes on both the child in the room and the case. There was someone near the door when a knock was heard, and his uncle abruptly stood up and explicitly told Saihara not to touch it.

_ “If you touch this, I’m dumping you with your parents, kid.”  _ So Saihara touched it, pulling it towards himself and staring at it with eyes wide; not out of fear though, but rather a strange feeling Saihara isn’t sure how to describe even up to this day. Happiness was not the answer, and certainly not anything impure, it felt more like… interest.

Saihara has a hard time remembering his childhood as well as others should, but he remembers having a hard time in having too much of an interest. He had a hard time learning things nobody taught him. Emotion, friends, the reasoning of dreams. The grasp of things he has yet to know seemed so uncontrollable to him back then, back then… His first interest is hard to remember.

There was a lot more blood in that scene than an average human could have, it seemed. Saihara’s finger taps at the body, laid against the wall in such a way that would suggest someone moved him there, with its eyes gouged out and a single symbol on the its skull where the forehead should be after a black bag was taken off, both pictures shown, a shot put ball rested nearby, and though there was dried blood gushed out next to it, it didn’t seem like that was the main murder weapon. The hand was seemingly cut off, but it was very hard to say, and the bones were found in a fishtank brought in the room and a single piranha inside. A sawboard was also leaning on the shot put ball, and blood was on it. Not the victim’s blood, but rather someone else that was found nearby, lying unconscious. There was not a photo of that in here, as the person was later found to be the perpetrator. A small sickle-like weapon was found in the stomach, which was ripped open, and something quite similar to toilet paper and bandages was wrapped tightly around the neck.

It was clear that the murder was overexaggerated. Though now that Saihara is looking at the picture again…  _ I can’t quite place my finger on it, but it reminds me of something _ . The young Saihara, when first giving a single glance at this knew that the body was unidentifiable, as any nine year old would first think. There was just no sign of who it could be, and no missing people reports. So the victim was either here illegally or no one noticed the death, which would be quite impossible now. The final perpetrator was released after realization that they didn’t remember anything, assumingly after the large indose of drugs the police found in them that they say were forced to take after being brought somewhere after going to a club. The police released them back to their family, or so his uncle told him in the end when Saihara was twelve years old.

He remembers denying a lot of things to his uncle, after his uncle gave him a rather crude scold. _ It didn’t seem that the victim was trying to defend himself _ , young Saihara tried to explain without a weird glance from his uncle, even though there was a clear wooden board prompt up so it would seem, and how it couldn’t be the woman because in no version of hell would any drunk, delusional, or drugged person ever so calculatingly set the scene up so as an unsolvable mystery such as this.

Saihara laughs at the memory, so clear in his head out of all the fog. Still left unsolved despite answers laid out like dead fish in front of him, all the fish red herrings. Before shutting the file, he glances at the symbol on the forehead in the third picture, a small simplified red wing stretched out, above two letters that looks faded despite looking new at the same time.  _ Two F’s.  _ It reminds him a little of the Danganronpa Company symbol, but it looks too different to be, and the wing curls into the edge of the F at the end, and seems to be pointing somewhere. Saihara’s eyes drag to the other picture, and it’s only graffiti where it’s pointing. A graffiti of a  _ Enoshima _ \- 

Saihara looks away, breathing, only to realize he hasn’t been. Saihara cracks up at that, hiding the file back away where his uncle would forget he placed it. And he shuts the door behind himself, scratching his neck as he snaps out of his head to notice how warm he is. He smiles, pure joy befitting his face as he figures out _ , no wonder why I was so interested. Why was Ouma looking at this certain file though..? And why would he even try to look at it without my uncle or my permission? Because I know my uncle would shoot someone dead if some kid that wasn’t his responsibility looked at this. _

_ I… should stop thinking.  _ Saihara stares at his hand, pale and long, just like always, no scratches to be found and it’s almost amusing compared to Ouma’s or Harukawa’s, or even Akamatsu’s scars going from her arm to her hand. He walks back down the stairs after grabbing his camera and computer, glancing up at Momota, who is alone.  _ Unsupervised. Why is he unsupervised?  _

“Hey, Shuichi, my bro!” Momota gives him a smile, and Saihara tries to put on a pleasant smile. “Don’t do that, it looks  _ weird _ .”  _ My smile?  _ Saihara gives him a faulty straight line, and Momota’s smile grows to a grin, putting his hands to his hips. “Anyways, where’d you wanna go again?”

“Ah, is it alright if we go to the library, Kaito?” Momota looks shocked at the new name, mouth going open, but he seems to have a small smile as he talks. Saihara can’t smile back, because there is nothing for him to particularly smile about.

“More money for me, and that’s just great!” He does a wobbling thumbs-up, “Anyways, lucky me that my mom thought of chucking a pair of clothes at me before I left, cuz’ otherwise I wouldn’t have brought another pair. I have my clothes, and my jacket.” Ah, yes. That awfully bright space jacket he carries around even when he doesn’t wear it. “So let’s go!”

Saihara pauses him, “Did Maki already leave?” Momota nods, “Alright, if you’re ready, then let’s go.” A grin spreads back on Momota’s face and they go. But of course, somewhere on the course there, Momota asks for more food and they spend an entire ten minutes there just because Momota seems to have a gambling habit on trying to guess where the bathroom is with his eyes closed, and every second is a waste of time where Saihara could have been working on his homework.

After eating a little more, and Momota visibly confused where the bathroom is but too proud off his own ass to ask, the again, once more make their adventure towards the library. 

_ Perhaps I should have chosen someone else. _

The library wasn’t particularly large, but it wasn’t small. It was lined with books on shelves and shelves, parted in two areas. A children’s area off to the west and the official library to the east, the restroom that Momota had to go to first at the north. Saihara had to explain and swipe his member’s card to why he brought these and a brainless idiot whom of which enjoyed beating up people in alleyways, and they went on their ever-so-fine way towards wherever Momota thought was funny and Saihara’s way to sit.

“There’s dust here.” Momota notes and rubs his chin, a finger pointed up with dust layering it. “Are you sure this was a good idea?” Saihara gives him an endearing smile, trying not to tell him to go fuck off because he was the one who brought him here. Momota plays with a fake flower next to him, and Saihara places it on the edge.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to use your middle finger to wipe the dust?” Saihara asks, opening his laptop and setting everything up. There was a small area in the corner not a lot of people visited. That was a pretty good place to take a picture, or so Saihara personally thinks, and they happen to now be there. “Okay Kaito-” Momota’s attention snaps to the name again, and his head twists a little too fast, “Can you give me a pose right here?”

Momota frowns at that, clearly confused but obviously trying not to show it. He looks down at his arm, putting it up, and then the other, and oh-  _ The hands connected. Just the average Kaito Momota in his natural habitat here.  _ “This good?”

Saihara wants to say something, but it’s amusing to him how he’s leaning over to the left rather than straight up, his hands in a weird L pose and Momota doesn’t look like he’s realized that quite yet. So instead, he does a small thumbs-up and takes a picture or two.

The light looks okay, since the window is rather large next to the backdrop wall, and there is no one else so the focus is clearly the plant next to Momota and the man himself. It looked fine, and Saihara and Momota do this for the next few minutes, weird poses and one failed apple shape Momota was trying to make out of a green plant.

“Oh- Shuichi!” A feminine voice calls out, though who they are Saihara either couldn’t give a fuck or couldn’t care less- You can decide which one he would typically chose. “And… another guy?” Saihara turns around when he feels something warm on his shoulder, smacking it away.

A shocked face, wide eyes, chestnut hair covering their ears and Saihara knows who it is. That thin pale blue jacket and too bright pink clothes that could possibly shine in the dark. “Oh. Hello, Maki’s friend.”


	41. Maki Harukawa's friend and Maki Harukawa's boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shocked face, wide eyes, chestnut hair covering their ears and Saihara knows who it is. That thin pale blue jacket and too bright pink clothes that could possibly shine in the dark. “Oh. Hello, Maki’s friend.”
> 
> She does a slow nod before backing up, rubbing her hand as someone else comes behind her, yelling at her to stop running. A guy, black hair and black eyes, and barely shorter than Momota yet clearly a little older than a highschooler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, wow. And yeah, I'll probably update one more update. Sorry for missing thee two things! And I wrote around 2,500 words for each chapter in that, rounding to approximately 5,000 = 5 days of writing, so I technically didn't miss them! :D
> 
> Also, sorry to you Pizza man, no Ouma because I pre-write the chapters. I still added it in the thing, but Momota was still was higher because of my vote :\\.

She does a slow nod before backing up, rubbing her hand as someone else comes behind her, yelling at her to stop running. A guy, black hair and black eyes, and barely shorter than Momota yet clearly a little older than a highschooler, “Hey! W… Who are you guys?”

Saihara tilts his head, and the person gives him a weird look.  _ Typical _ . “I’m not sure. Your friend just came up to me and tapped me shoulder for no reason.” Saihara just wants to wrap up and start finishing his homework, he doesn’t want to talk to Harukawa’s friend without Harukawa here.

“Huh? What’s goin’ on?” Momota asks, wrapping an arm around Saihara’s neck loosely and leaning forward, “Don’t tell me… Shuichi, bro, you get shittin’ bullied?” Momota’s eyes here are surely an impressionable moment.  _ Momota’s a fucking idiot. _

“Yes, I do get bullied, Kaito. The roses, remember?” Saihara says, flicking Momota on the forehead and getting Momota off him. “Anyways, what are you doing here, Maki’s friend?” Harukawa’s friend looks thoroughly confuzzled, and Saihara boredly takes off his hat.

The black-haired male next to her decides to ask, “Didn’t you just say you don’t know Yume-”

“I do, I just decided not to add that. There was no point when you two are going to leave us alone soon.” Saihara explains, “I’m doing homework, and I never feel comfortable to show other people, so if you may please…”  _ Leave _ . 

“Whha~at? No, no, no, back in the first month at school, I remember Maki talking something about how you always let her cheat on your homework!” Harukawa’s friend argues, and Saihara decides not to answer that. Harukawa’s friend tugs at the black-haired male next to her. “C’mon, bae, let’s stay and talk with Shuichi!”

She makes a weird pout face before Momota can start speaking, “Doesn’t bae mean poop in Danish..?”  _ That’s… a weird thing to point out.  _ Momota grins, “I met a lot of people so that ought to mean bad luck is comin’ my way, meanin’...” Momota punches his hand and has a silent thought.

“Uh-” The black-haired man seems confused, but still, he turns to Saihara, “Sorry if she seems pushy, she’s usually like this… It’s nice to meet you, I am Yume’s boyfriend.” He puts out his hand and Saihara doesn’t take it, “Um… My name is-”

“Who’s Yume?” Momota asks, his eyes going wide, “Is that a type of them… what are they called? Anime girls?” Saihara elbows Momota’s shoulder and points a thumb at Harukawa’s friend, whispering an explanation.

“Maki’s friend, I know her from school.” Saihara clarifies. Momota nods his head, crossing his arms with a blank look on her face.

The black-haired male starts to speak again, “My name is Ren Kaien. Weird, right? Two first names… Anyways, sorry that we both bothered you. We’ll go now and talk back to Korekiyo, right Yume?”  _ Korekiyo?  _ Saihara snaps his head to look at the taller male’s eyes, black.  _ Maki’s girlfriend or the Korekiyo Shinguji I know. _

“What? No!” Harukawa’s friend whines, frowning at her boyfriend, “Korekiyo wanted to see Shuichi, so why won’t you let him..!” Kaien grimaces back, rubbing his arm weakly and trying to pull her away.

It seems like a private conversation, but Saihara finds no reason not to hear. It’s most definitely not his first time listening to a private conversation anyways, flashbacks of Ouma and that rather strange conversation flashes in his mind, though he waves those thoughts away.  _ It doesn’t matter if I listen or not anyways, after all, they don't care anyways.  _ “Because of…” Kaien glances at Saihara, and his voice goes under a whisper.

“It will be  _ fine _ , babe.” Harukawa’s friend says, and Kaien sighs. “I’m sure it will be fine- We even told him to meet us at the library so there’s no going back now!” She grins up at him and his frown grows. They turn back and Harukawa’s friend insists to stay for a moment, before Kaien gives up. “Cool! What homework were you working on, Shuichi? Can you help me as well?”

“Don’t you guys have something to do?” Saihara asks, scratching his cheek. “And by Korekiyo… Do you mean Korekiyo from school, or Maki’s Korekiyo?” The two lovers sit down without Saihara’s consent.

Kaien gives him a weird look, “That’s… Korekiyo Uchida.” So Harukawa’s Korekiyo. Saihara does a small nod and starts focusing back on his laptop. Momota introduces himself and Saihara, and starts going on and on about his bloody battles with other people, making the two others listening uncomfortable.

They go on, and the conversation leads to Harukawa. Saihara decides to start to pay attention to this now, eyes falling to Momota, the start to another awkward conversation. He doesn’t want to speak too much, just watch.

“So hey, Harukawa, right? Ain’t she weaker than she makes herself to be?” Momota says, leaning back in his chair and messing with the plant that Saihara isn’t too sure he’s allowed to touch. “Like, she keeps on wantin’ to challenge and fight me, but she’s only a girl.”

“That’s rather rude.” Harukawa’s friend scoffs, “I mean, she is pretty straightforward with everything she does, but that’s just her.”  _ Really? She seems pretty defendful whenever I talk about certain things and barely tells me much about even you.  _ Harukawa’s friend narrows her eyes and plays with her earring, “She’s… so irritating.” Saihara tilts his head at that and she looks away, biting her bottom lip as Kaien.

“Don’t call her that.” Kaien sighs, “She just can’t… stand down- Oh, Saihara, should we stop talking about this?” Saihara shakes his head, still remaining silent. “Okay then..? Anyways, Maki is nice, she just likes to push things.”

“Not to mention, I have to…” Harukawa’s friend stops speaking, glowering, “Can we stop talking about this? Maki is Maki and she can do whatever she wants, if she doesn’t want me to help her, then I won’t.”  _ Help her? What would Maki want her friend to help her with?  _ Saihara taps his fingernails on the table quietly, eyes tracing over the running figure towards them.

“Guys! Guys! Oh my god, why are you guys all the way over here!?” Somebody screams over to them, somebody in view slowing their run to a walk. “Oh- Wait…” The guy squints until his eyes burst wide wide open. “That’s..!” A finger that Saihara finds very rude, points towards him.

“Are you Maki’s boyfriend?” Saihara asks, and confirmation comes vague with a single, unsure nod. “Nice to finally meet you, sorry I couldn’t be there all the times you and Maki called me over. I was busy with someone more… important at the time.” Saihara remembers the three days before Harukawa got upset.  _ I wonder, even now, why she was so upset for someone like me? Maybe Uchida had something to do with it? _

Korekiyo Uchida pauses, before putting on a straight face. 

“You’re Shuichi Saihara? So…” Uchida lowers his head, rubbing at his temples and eyes wide, whispering, “She wasn’t lying. Holy shit.”

“No cursing in the fuckin’ library.” Momota explains, a bright grin on his face. “Are you actually her boyfriend? You look too much of a wuss to be.” Momota looks perplexed, as if there was a false reasoning in a newly solved puzzle even though it was already made finished. Uchida looks offended by the stranger, but he doesn’t open his mouth to speak back.

“So how is Harukawa doing?” Uchida asks, eyes widening even more. “Is she okay? Or is she…” Last name. Saihara tries to ignore that, but something makes Saihara realize he’s asking how Harukawa is doing, even though he’s her boyfriend.

Momota’s grin grows before anyone else could speak.  _ Fucking loudmouth, he better not mention anything that happened last night- _ “She met me, so there’s no possible way she could ever be okay!” After a long pause, Momota continues, “I mean, at my school you only come t o me unless you have a problem, and though my bro, Shuichi breaks that rule-”  _ He’s referring to the lack of replies I give him _ . “But she clearly asked me somethin’ with help in the middle of the night on Shuichi’s ph-”

Saihara abruptly covers his mouth and flashes a calm smile up at Uchida, “On the thirteenth, Maki came to my house crying. She said it was because I was ignoring her, but she was acting more dramatic than she usually is, so did something happen?” Uchida rubs his neck for a moment, guilty of unknown crimes of the heart that Saihara ponders about. “Nevermind. She’ll… tell me when she’s ready, when you two make up.”  _ You know, she praised a lot about you, but now, meeting you in real-life is… _

“Disappointing. I want to know what happened as well since none of the two have told me yet.” Harukawa’s friend whines, clasping Saihara’s hand, “Please Shuichi, let him talk!” Saihara shakes his head.

He forces on a smile and thinks of ways on how the people in the envelope would kill, and how they would act if so-and-so happened, the image clear and vivid in that foggy head of Saihara’s. 

And then, Saihara tries not to think of it.

* * *

The three left after Momota started talking to Saihara about the crime scenes they’ve seen in Danganronpa, clearly not too big fans about that. Saihara’s favorite moment he can remember in that series was the first two seasons, as those ones seemed to behold an idea beyond Saihara’s imagination he could barely guess, the next forty-nine seasons rather a bore, a simple thing to figure out. They were more boring than Saihara would’ve enjoyed but that was fine to his past self a couple days ago.

Too bad Saihara’s grown bored of that, the figurative imagination of so many better plans of killing off characters and creative plot, so long as Saihara waves goodbye. He wouldn’t say he was particularly great at writing, but he knew from all the files he saw how much blood a young teenage male would have to lose before they fainted, the correct amount of impact to the head with a dumbell before they died, how to correctly use the tip of the hammer to take out one’s eyes and cut the cord.

Saihara almost laughs at Momota’s shocked face when he describes such amusing things, but he doesn’t. He just does that “creepy”- or so Momota has to add- smile.

“Wait, lemme go ask that library lady for a book on somethin’. I wanna show you a book.” Momota says, sitting up, “Just sit here and… I donno, just sit here and work on that shit piece of a laptop.” Saihara opens his mouth, trying to make an understandable sentence to Momota that he is done with his homework, and has been done for a long while, but he decides not to. He can use this time to help Iidabashi.

Momota leaves and Saihara sees how Iidabashi is doing. Iidabashi apologizes that he didn’t get the small bug Saihara doesn’t care about done because he was helping walk some stranger’s dog because their arm was amputated. Saihara and Iidabashi talk a little bit, barely, and it takes Momota a rather long time to come back with a book. He sorts through some things before the time Momota manages to come back.

A flower’s language book, bright colors spread over the cover. “The Language of Flowers.”

_ Is he stupid? Why did it take him so long to find that when it should just be… You know what, I guess he is stupid.  _

“Okay, okay, I got it. Drop all of your fingers to the ground and look at this.” Momota says. Saihara doesn’t drop his fingers, but he stops and reaches for the book in confusion. Momota pulls it back, flips the pages in a callous manner, flipping one a little too fast and bending one the wrong way. His face brightens up, “Ey, here’s the damn page!”

_ No cursing in the library.  _

“What is it you wanted to show me?” Saihara asks, to which Momota responds with words, and not simply showing him. 

Momota’s explanation is hard for Saihara to understand. “So you see the meaning of roses is kinda… So what you see is… Fuck. So roses are kinda pointy, you see… And… Fuckin’ hell, roses are-”

“Just show me the book.” Saihara tells him, taking the book away and trying to ignore the small bend at the end... The page about roses, next to the Rhododendron’s page. Simple, well-known meaning of the different colors of roses, with small passages.

Red roses,  _ true love. _

“So how ‘bout that?” Momota grins, “You ain’t getting death threats of roses, but instead just gettin’ roses.” Saihara tilts his head, dropping the book on the table and trying to think why Momota would try to tell him this.

_ Ah. The roses in my locker.  _ “Oh, that’s what you were trying to tell me.” Saihara nods, “That’s an interesting theory. I too thought that would be it, but I doubt it.” Momoa widens his eyes, as though shocked Saihara would deny it. 

“Wha?! But it’s so obvious!” Momota explains in a rather loud voice, echoing in the library, “The answer is right in front of you. Someone thought you were an actually good person and doesn’t know your shitty self!” Saihara ignores the straight-forward insult and reads over the passage inside.

“That’s neat.”


	42. Two Strangers at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a knock on the door, and Saihara’s hair goes up in shock. It was close to night now, his uncle home and the house quiet. Saihara changed his clothes after showering, and worked some more with Iidabashi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's past midnight and finished the Monday chapter, I think I'm caught up now.
> 
> So those strangers, you might know who they are, you might not. This thing, you might've noticed, has a lot of puzzles to solve. You thought Harukawa's friend was hitting on Saihara? You guessed wrong. You thought simply asking Ryoma to talk more would work? Oh no no no. You thought everyone is as simple as a puzzle piece and there is never a hidden figure? Well, sometimes it's just fluff, but everything is connected to the plot. What's that plot?
> 
> Make your guess, let me see if it's right. OR dear so god please help me figure out the plot. :3

There’s a knock on the door, and Saihara’s hair goes up in shock. He touches it, trying to brush it down, but it wouldn’t stay down. He finally sighed, scratching his cheek as he went to the front door.

It was close to night now, his uncle home and the house quiet. Saihara changed his clothes after showering, and worked some more with Iidabashi. His uncle would have spoken about something to Saihara if he ordered food, so it couldn’t be any orders, and packages don’t come this late. 

_Could it be someone that works with uncle..? No, he doesn’t trust anyone enough to let anybody do that._ Saihara wonders if the person behind it knows if the door is unlocked, due to his uncle’s uncaring self in the safety of their house. Saihara’s eyes go bored and he tilts his hat a little, _is it them..?_

Saihara stares at the door for a moment, before snapping it open. 

The strangers seem a little surprised at such a sudden movement, but their eyes go dim when they see the person in front of them. The three stand there for a moment, until the woman opens her mouth.

“Hello…” Her voice isn’t weak, but rather boorish instead, arms crossed. She glances around, leaning her head closer inside and glancing around with quick eyes, “Where is Sygnomi?” The female stranger isn’t particularly tall, but taller than Saihara is. And she is wearing a long dress, as though she has just been at a party. Saihara gets a headache looking at her face, but she seems to be wearing make-up, 

The male stranger is dressed like so, a suit matching the color of the other woman’s dress, hair gelled. He seems a little drunk, eyes drifting far away, words a little strange. “Where is that bastard? And why is some child at his door, huh?”

“Honey, don’t call him that in front of Akamatsu…” Whispers the female stranger, hand blocking as though that would help. Saihara tilts his head when they glance over, forcing a smile. The female stranger puts out her hand for a shake, a wide smile on her face, “Hello, Shuichi-”

Saihara notices Akamatsu behind them, eyes dull pink, empty. She smiles at him, with that peculiar happy smile with nothing behind, and Saihara turns away before she says something.

“Saihara, who’s at the door!?” Saihara’s uncle yells from his study, a door opening behind Saihara. He seems to catch sight of the strangers and Akamatsu. “Holy shit, who’re you people?”

“... Saihara..? This kid?” The male stranger says, his eyes widening. He looks closer at the face of Saihara, and squints. Saihara backs away while his uncle goes closer. “He’s… recovered. I-” The female stranger glares at the male and smiles at Saihara’s uncle. _Recovered? What did I recover from?_

“My brother! It’s been so long! How are you? How has Shuichi grown?” She asks a little too bluntly, putting a foot in the house that Saihara narrows his eyes at, “Shuichi, my wonderful son, how about you? What are your grades? Have you made any promising friends?” Akamatsu seems to catch Saihara’s discomfort, that empty smile resting on her face.

The female flashes a wider smile and Saihara shuts the door when Akamatsu pulls the stranger’s foot out the doorstep. Saihara and his uncle turn to stare at each other for a moment, before locking the door in silence.

“Have a good night, uncle.” Saihara nods, trying to ignore that strange feeling of someone watching him starting up again. “And also…” Saihara opens his mouth, but decides to shut it, “nevermind.”

“Okay then.” His uncle says, going back to his study, “And Saihara, don’t stay up late. You need a good night’s sleep for Monday, and what’s going to happen.” Saihara stares for a moment, before his uncle shuts the door to his study. _Well… now I have a headache. I might have a hard time sleeping, but perhaps I should go to sleep early._

There are loud knocks and shouts outside, but Saihara has a hard time paying attention to them. With a blank mind, he heads back upstairs and ignores the popping numbers going up from Akamatsu, talking a little bit with Iidabashi some more and helping sort out the website. Iidabashi seems to realize at some point that they live close to each other and Saihara isn’t surprised by the coincidence.

And eventually, Iidabashi has to stop so Saihara decides to go to sleep as well.

* * *

Like a faded dream, thoughts intertwined with a non-existent reality, Saihara finds himself in a quiet hallway. The walls are an awful white, almost blinding in the eye’s of Saihara, but he keeps walking. 

The wonders of the hall, to the empty, hollow long walkways shift unconsciously into colors. Vibrant, much too bold as they filled empty spaces, but Saihara continues walking, walking towards the unknown of which he isn’t sure where.

And unknown is what he shall get. The walls uncomfortably alter direction, switching and turning into a maze, a maze with no exit and therefore, no entrance. Meaning an endless trapped dream of boring puzzles to solve for no extent, as the ending will be the same as it was before he entered the maze.

Except the truly puzzling fact was, is that Saihara never entered the maze.

He knows, as though instinct developed from the falling sky, stars collapsing onto the maze as Saihara finds no over, but he doesn’t need to when it’s only a dream. _A dream and nothing more_ , forever more only a dream, and nothing more.

On top of the maze, to where she stands at the exit, is the gatekeeper. The woman who always watches, sharp nails clawing into the pale skin of Saihara’s arm when she grabs him, but Saihara senses nothing to fear. Because, _there is no gate, therefore, there is no gatekeeper._

She whispers to him while he’s lost, lost in an everlasting maze of a conundrum never meant to solve. Saihara doesn’t know what she whispers, because it all has faded away after a while once he shut his eyes. There is nothing to see, therefore, there is nobody there. The pain, the fear, the treacherous horror locked up underneath an invisible cage that does not exist, as this is all just a dream.

And when he opens his eyes, everything will return, but perhaps, just perhaps that is Saihara’s lie? Ah, but if only one were to know. Just never forget, this is a dream and only a dream, a dream of nothing and therefore, meaning nothing. Saihara’s head hurt.

A voice, once more, speaks to Saihara, one he cannot ignore. The voice of a stranger, a female stranger that Saihara never wanted to admit that was a stranger, “My son,” Saihara taps at a wall, a dead-end in a maze he cannot see. But once he taps it once more, there is nothing to tap. “How are your friends?”

Friends. _That’s…_

A highschooler, when Saihara was at the age of younger than he remembers he would be to become friends with a highschooler, a young woman that enjoyed to dream, somebody with blonde- but not quite, and pale eyes, hair grown long that covered a bandage on her face, mostly down and covering her face. She wasn’t shy, but-

Saihara’s head hurt.

“Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes, ope-” The voice continues, hissing calm, quiet words that put Saihara off-edge. _The gatekeeper,_ “Stop thinking!” A cold shiver runs down Saihara’s spine.

Saihara… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Vote: [no worm :(](https://strawpoll.com/s6csv2q5a)
> 
> Second Vote: [How's your mood today? I'm dead.](https://strawpoll.com/har75kfh9)
> 
> Thank you to the two guests who kudos-ed! :D Have a happy face.


	43. Closed Eyes Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes, ope-” The voice continues, hissing calm, quiet words that put Saihara off-edge.  _ The gatekeeper,  _ “Stop thinking!” A cold shiver runs down Saihara’s spine.
> 
> Saihara... can't quite remember what he did, but he seems to be in a short hall, closed off behind him with white, bleak walls and a hard wooden floor with every step, a music note plays once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I- I'm not too sure what I'm doing. 
> 
> Also, everything in this is fiction, and every pill, and try not to think too much on how everything works, because I'll probably use all the mistakes and everything to try and complete it, like why there was a chair here, or why I showed this part at a place that didn't quite make any sense, but if there is any problems you have or questions, write it down in the comments and I'll try my best to answer! Like, any criticism or inaccurate things, and just to repeat this, don't take this too seriously. Imagine this is an alternative universe that you don't know much about, but it seems pretty parallel except for some details and perhaps some medicine identities, as well as some misconceptions and why the fuck they keep getting threatened.
> 
> Thanks for reading this!

Saihara finds himself too short, in a room too tall for such a person like he was. He walks, slowly and carefully, no noise as he took step by step to wherever he was going. He glances around, taking in his new area.

White. White walls, as blank as the life Saihara doesn’t know. The floor was wood, and every time Saihara took a step there seemed to be some strange, distinct light unknown to him that he followed. And every single step, a single note of a piano was played in the background.

There is a door, and nothing else, to Saihara’s left. A brown, simple door that has a sense of familiarity. A single door, and when Saihara turns the knob, there, a large piano that seems so natural to be there, one that Saihara can’t exactly place his finger on, is there.

And what sits on the piano’s bench, coated with a thick layer of dust at the edges, is a highschooler, with long blonde hair tinted pink, curling up at the edges in an unruly way that covered a wound on her cheek and eyes with a bleak, empty grey that makes Saihara feel sick. But even so, she looks friendly, so Saihara takes another step forward.

Another note of the piano is played, off-key, and the girl’s fingers pause, looking back at Saihara. 

She does a rather large grin, tilted a little too much to the right for Saihara to think it was a smile, and he notices that she is smiling at  _ him, this strange girl is smiling at him.  _ And Saihara looks around, to see an extra chair for some reason left in the room, oddly familiar like the one Amami forgot to move back into the piano room in his uncle’s house.

“Hello, Shuichi, Shuichi, what are you doing here?” She cooed, bending down to match his height.  _ I’m shorter than I remember,  _ Saihara notes down before staring blankly back at her. She laughs at that, something undecipherable in her eyes while she stands back up. “What are you doing? Bored?”

_ Bored.  _ Saihara’s head snaps up, widening his eyes as though in realization of something important.  _ Bored? Bored? Bored?  _ Panicked breathes empty out of him as she laughs more, petting his head callously and bringing him to the chair next to the piano’s bench.  _ Bored? Bored? _

Saihara feels like he is going puke at any moment now, while the strange teenager sits back down, hands raising at the piano’s keys and slamming down at them. She turns around, still smiling, hands swiftly going to her lap as she stares at Saihara.

Her voice felt a little too sweet, laced with something that Saihara couldn’t identify, and with something under it that was a little too peculiar for him to remember. Everything feels a little light right now, as she speaks, “I’m so bored right now- Hey, Shuichi. Shuichi, tell me to do something.” She kneels in front of him, grins too wide and eyes too wild.

Saihara opens his mouth to try and speak, but nothing can come out. He lowers his head, staring at the shorter body he was in. When he doesn’t talk, another voice calls Saihara, or the girl, or perhaps both. Saihara doesn’t know anymore.

“C’mon, kids, breakfast doesn’t eat itself!” Calls a stranger, a female by the sounds of it. 

The girl pulls Saihara’s hand, still smiling, though Saihara wants to pull his hand away so badly that it hurts, and he wants to slam a brick in her head over and over, though he isn’t sure why. A waffle is forced into his hand, and yet he knows if he were to eat it, then he would not be able to wake up, so he puts it down, hands sore from the girl’s grip and head dizzy.

A woman, smiling, so clearly foriegn. Her red hair was straightened past her shoulders, up in a rather messed-up ponytail, eyes a distinct mix of blue and green, vivid yet so unclear. The features on her face look fuzzy, and the ring on her finger looks like a snake instead of a ring, but there is something trustful about her as Saihara sits down in his usual seat, observing the scene. A four-seat table, rectangular, and a plate is placed in front of him with a hum. 

More waffles, but Saihara knows he can’t eat them. And the woman looks confused, while the teenager with blonde hair’s smile just widens. Saihara feels a little more dizzy than he thinks he should be in a dream, but it’s fine, since this is only a dream, and therefore, nothing means anything.

“Shuichi, are you okay?” Asks the foreigner, as someone else comes into the room. Younger than Saihara knows him to be, it’s his uncle, wearing the hat he gave Saihara. “-Oh, hey, dear.” He plants a kiss on her cheek and sits in the chair across from Saihara, the jacket he gave Saihara on the chair he sits down at, looking at Saihara as though he were bewildered.

“... Why is Shuichi-” Saihara doesn’t know why, but that doesn’t sound like the name that his uncle usually calls him, but he doesn’t say anything about that, because he can’t, his mouth zipped up with glue and stuffed with air. “sitting in Junko’s chair?”

Saihara goes pale, turning his face to the blonde girl, to which she grins back at him.

_ It’s only a dream, therefore, nothing means anything here. _

* * *

_ Only a dream, only a dream,  _ Saihara repeats to himself as he sits still at the breakfast table, as the female stranger sits in the chair Amami forgot to move back. The other one is somewhere that Saihara isn’t too sure where, perhaps in an everlasting burning torment of hell, perhaps in the illusion of a dream hidden in the corner depths of Saihara’s mind, who knows?

Saihara’s uncle seems bothered to be sitting at the table, arms crossed in the chair across from Saihara, staring at the woman as though she was a disgusting rat that his dog killed and had the bright idea to bring it here. “So-”

“Why did you not let us in the house!?” The female stranger asks in a provoking voice, and Saihara winces at the pain in his head that he has a hard time knowing why it comes. Apparently she and her husband until winter break ends, “Shuichi is our son as-” Saihara feels sick, leaning forward to rub his temples.

“Why are we having waffles for breakfast again, uncle?” Saihara asks, poking his waffle decorated with peach with his fork and his appetite disappearing. “I… had this weird dream about this, to explain.”

His uncle hums for a moment, boredly tapping at his waffles as well. “You’re right, Saihara. Do you want to throw your’s away? I’ll give you some money to buy something at the convenient store.” His voice is awkward, cold, and Saihara nods. He hands Saihara some on top of the table, before saying, “What was your dream about?”  _ He just wants to not listen to the…  _ Saihara thinks of the grey eyes of the female stranger.

“I… think it was about the piano in the piano room, and someone- No, two people… Yeah.” Saihara nods to himself, his headache growing. He looks up, his yellow eyes flickering a dull yellow before going back to a pale grey, empty, “Sorry, I can’t seem to remember.”

His uncle pauses, before asking, “Can you tell me what you do remember, or is that all?” He seems reluctant to ask, as if something will come behind him and cut his throat off when he does try to explain.

Saihara thinks for a moment, glancing at the female stranger, and whispers to his uncle in a voice that even he can barely hear, “Before, I have a small question…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First poll: [Aqua worm](https://strawpoll.com/41e4988yg)
> 
> Thank you to the yuhudis and the three guests who kudos-ed! :3


	44. Harukawa's Threat Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara thinks for a moment, glancing at the female stranger, and whispers to his uncle in a voice that even he can barely hear, “Before, I have a small question…”
> 
> His voice goes lower, and his gaze falls onto his uncle’s dark grey eyes, “Why do you have file four in your room again?” Something seems to appear faintly in his uncle’s eyes, and Saihara searches for any more signs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more chapter, being prepared, 1,000 words ready, AND IM GOING TO UPDATE IT IN A BIT WAIT A MOMENT- anyways, I ate a hot dog today. Hehe, cold cat.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! :D

His voice goes lower, and his gaze falls onto his uncle’s dark grey eyes, “Why do you have file four in your room again?” Something seems to appear faintly in his uncle’s eyes, and Saihara searches for any more signs.

His uncle backs up before Saihara can investigate any further, a small scowl on his face as he speaks, “ _ What did you see _ ?” A command, not a question, and Saihara laughs. “Saihara, stop laughing. What did you see? Was it… was it the green-haired one that was looking at it? Or was it the tall brute?”  _ He excludes Ouma. Must be because you wouldn’t suspect that small guy.  _ The thought amuses Saihara.

“What are you talking to Shuichi, Sygnomi?” Asks the female stranger, leaning closer with her elbows on the table, “And why are you whispering? We’re all one big family, after all.” She smiles, and Saihara feels a little strange from looking at her eyes.

“You say that? After all these years?” His uncle raises his voice, grinning from ear to ear, “There’s a reason he was whispering to  _ me _ , and not to  _ you _ .” He turns back to Saihara, replying back, “I’ll tell you when you get back, Saihara. Now go to school.” He pats Saihara’s back forcefully, as though telling him to leave, making Saihara grab his bag and goes upstairs for a moment to grab his lockpick, trying to avoid the male stranger near the door, smoking out a cigarette.

_ Best not to think about it _ , Saihara tells himself, glancing back when the man says something to him, and he wonders about a small child in a room of arguing adults. He wonders about parents, and his uncle’s wife, and the teenager back from when he was a child, back in his dream.  _ Best not to think of it, when I need to be more concerned about the present than some foggy memories. _

* * *

_ October 21st. School, today, was rather noisy, as the roses added up. Luckily, my uncle hasn’t questioned why there are a bunch of roses in the kitchen, though he kept glancing at them curiously enough. Maki seems confident that we will be able to catch the culprit, though I doubt it will work… perhaps we should have just shown the police? But I’m afraid they may take it as a joke, especially since the letter itself, doesn’t make much sense when explained, and who would even try to attack somebody in a classroom? Though I already know the answer to that question. Maki’s friend didn’t talk to us today, and even when I offered my jacket, Maki was insistent she didn’t need it. _

_ After school, the five of us all went to Amami’s school after he got permission, how he did I have no idea, but he managed to do it and that’s all that matters to me. Maki brought an extra bat just in case, and we all waited in the classroom for more time than needed at the door, but nobody came. _

“Ugh… Can I just go home?” Asks Momota, collapsing onto the classroom floor and hitting his head on the leg of the student desk, “Shit..!”

“A-Are you okay, Momota?” Ouma worries, pausing his hand in front of Momota’s forehead, before retracting it when Momota slaps it away. Ouma’s bag is still on his shoulder, and Saihara remembers what Ouma told everyone earlier, when Momota searched through everyone’s bag for snacks.  _ A lockpick, so we should be good. _

“No, I’m fuckin’ not okay. Where the hell is this guy!?” Momota shouts a little louder than needed, seemingly angry. “We can’t just wait here for all of eternity, so I’m leavin’.”  _ When we met up, Kaito was more stressed out than he usually is. I wonder why.  _ “Can’t I just beat up the classroom!?” Matching with his words, he slams the desk of a student’s, and a piece of paper glides down. “Fuckin’ shit, goddamn asshole-”

“I don’t know you too much, but please don’t beat the classroom up, Momota.” Amami says dryly, yawning. He pauses for a moment, tapping Ouma out of the door’s frame before adding, “Kaede told me you shut the door on your parents and her.”

Saihara pulls Ouma out of Harukawa’s swing range for the bat, and Ouma seems especially panicked when he does, “Really? Didn’t she say she had a recital? Here, Ouma, have some pocky and stay away from Maki. She’ll kill us all.” He hands him some pocky before leaning down.

“Hey! I’m not going to kill him!” Shouts Harukawa, glancing out. Saihara picks up the paper on the floor, “Momota, here, let me kill with this bat.” Momota widens his eyes, sarcastic or not who knows.

“Wha!?-”

“W-What are you looking at, S-Saihara?” Ouma asks, leaning on the desk to try and see what he’s looking at. “ _ Ah. _ ” It’s a simple piece of paper, lined with blue and with two words.  _ You failed.  _ “H-Huh?”

Saihara let a smile come to his face, “Well, it looks like they already came.”

“Hey- stop talkin’ to yourselves and let me take a look! What’re you looking at!?” Momota yells, glaring at it as he tugs it away. His eyes go blank and he slowly, he sets it back down, “Wha..? What is this shit?”  _ Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Ah, wait, in the imprinted memory version, my future self mentions you don’t have any parents. _

“That’s…” Amami says after he looks at it, “Failed? Uh- Anyways, I don’t think that’s for us, so let’s put it back.” He tries to pull it away, but Momota doesn’t let him. “Momota,  _ please. _ ”

“But what if it  _ is  _ meant for us!? I mean, what kid has some- some weird thing in their shitting desk?” Momota insists, twisting the paper as though he would magically see something new when he turns it.

“Desks don’t  _ shit _ .” Harukawa tells Momota, and in response he scowls, “Don’t look at me like that. And Amami, no random casual would have this in their desk-”

“C-C-Casual?” Ouma asks through a stutter. He turns to Saihara, eyes questioning. Saihara shakes his head, and Ouma speaks to everyone in a quiet voice, setting the snack he had conveniently in his hand on a desk with faded writing on it, “P-Perhaps we just got the date wrong? The wrong M-Monday?” 

_ Then why even send us a letter with such specific details with all the names, the certain people, and why Ouma? Why is Ouma the target of such a letter? And why this classroom, with Mako and Momota? It’s a little too detailed to be a prank, or to not have a date, especially with…  _ Saihara feels around his pocket. Three letters, all shut. 

_ That signature. They’re all the same signature.  _ Saihara rubs his hand through his hair because he doesn’t have his hat to fiddle with, and interrupts everyone’s arguments. “Shut up. Instead, start thinking with your head, I can’t be the only one thinking about the fact it reads Ouma in the original letter, or Maki and Kaito, and not to be rude to Amami, but those two are the strongest out of all of us. Why would you want them, out of everyone, at Amami’s and Akamatsu’s school? And why this certain classroom, and not a more exclusive place without a camera.” Saihara turns to stare at the camera.

It doesn’t move.

“What are you gettin’ at, Shuichi?” Momota asks, narrowing his eyes. Saihara shrugs, grabbing some pocky and intensely staring at it before putting it inside a desk silently. The others look at him questionly.

“And…” Saihara pauses, “everyone’s names on the first letter remind me of something, can’t say.”  _ Can’t say,  _ Saihara repeats in his head. “It’s just too specific, so why didn’t they add a certain date? And why… why would they put a paper inside someone’s desk saying,  _ you failed _ ?”

“Just say your point, Shuichi. You’re really acting like the detective a certain somebody made you out to be.” Harukawa notes down, swinging the bat around. “Or is there no point?”

“Chill, everyone. Saihara has a good point. Why this location, and why the two most powerfulest people in this group of five? Maybe it’s hinting at something, like… maybe the person who sent us this letter goes to this classroom, since only students and people the administration allows are allowed to come in.” Amami helps explain.

“But that could be anyone! Even if it’s in this classroom, anyone can enter this classroom, and it’d make them look less suspicious.” Momota argues, knitting his brows together and throwing the  _ you failed  _ paper.

“It also means that they never planned to meet us in person.” Saihara adds, “We were always going to fail, even if we followed the rules.” And there’s a small click in the room, panic surrounds the four, and just like suspected, it seems Saihara’s theory is correct.

A voice fills the room from the classroom’s intercom, the voice a little too distorted to be the original voice of the person. Saihara tsks,  _ that means it has a possibility of someone the three of us, Maki, Amami, and I have spoken to before or will speak to. _ “Test, test. If you can hear this, please turn your head to the note.” Saihara automatically turns his head to the note on the floor, before widening his eyes,  _ that confirms it was for this _ , “You will notice that it has, indeed, not changed! Amazing, riiiight? Now if you may please, check the student desk with the faded writing on top, and there you will see-”

“Ouma, run to the school’s intercom. It should be one the third floor, should be next to the camera room. Go. Now.” Saihara whispers over to Ouma, to which he responds with wide eyes.

He whispers back, “What!? W-Wait-”

Saihara smiles, eyes flickering yellow back to grey. “You’re fast. I’ve seen you. So  _ run _ .” Ouma stops breathing for a moment, dark eyes turning a neon purple for a moment before punching Saihara on the arm, glaring.

He uncharacteristically curses as he opens the door a little too fast, jolting out the classroom as the voice continues nonsensical talk about the note, not adding anything.  _ No more new clues of information of who it could be then, other than the fact they don’t seem to have noticed Ouma has left…  _ Saihara tilts his head as he grabs the snack Ouma left behind. “happen to break a leg- Test, test. If you can hear this-”

It seems to repeat, and Saihara’s head goes on a wireline.  _ Could it be a recording then? But it couldn’t be when it would sound more echo-ey in the mic of the intercom, so why…  _ “ Amami, can you accompany me to the camera room? You two, Maki and Kaito, stay in this classroom in case anyone  _ does  _ come here, though I doubt it.”

“Huh?” Momota says, dumb-founded.

“But the camera room is locked, and where did Ouma go? He can’t go into the intercom, and even if he did, he was the  _ one  _ being threatened, he’s the wea-”

Saihara shoves the door open, impatiently waving for Amami to follow him, “I don’t feel like explaining everything. Can’t you just play along with this intense moment?” He runs in the hall before anyone can speak up.

The hallway is oddly quiet, and nobody is shouting at him for running in the halls, because there is no one. He can hear Amami, though, shouting behind him about something Saihara isn’t too sure what about. The classrooms seem to continue on the third floor when Amami and Saihara arrive, and there are two rooms in the corner next to the teacher’s lounge. One of the doors is opened, and that’s when Saihara notices Ouma isn’t there.

Through Amami’s confusion, Saihara clumsily lockpicks the door and manages to, under stress, open the door. There’s a password for the computers, though Amami pipes up about it, and they watch the day, October twenty-one, Monday play out.

What they manage to not notice, is the small plug wedged into the side of it, with a strange symbol at the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No voting today. :( Sorry.
> 
> Thank you to Inkeblop, WrenWriter, and the five guests!!!!! :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD


	45. The Black-Masked Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma wonders, he truly does, as he slowly walks up one more step of stairs, as he bounces to a pause when he sees someone, moving, breathing, watching him- but not quite, dash up one more pair of stairs.
> 
> **{THERE'S A DEATH IN THIS, BUT IT'S NOT ANYONE IMPORTANT, AND IT'S NOT TOO GRAPHIC FOR MY TASTES, BUT JUST LETTING YOU KNOW, THERE'S DEATH.}**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have writer's block. :(
> 
> That or I just wanna draw more.

Ouma wonders, he truly does, as he slowly walks up one more step of stairs, as he bounces to a pause when he sees someone, moving, breathing, watching him- but not quite, dash up one more pair of stairs.  _ Saihara, that fucking guy wanted me to go for some reason, but aren’t I the target? He clearly shows signs of being smart enough to figure that out, so why didn’t he? Or maybe he did… Fucking hell, makes me want to leave and ignore all this weird… stuff that’s been going on. _

_ The same day I apologize I get caught up in something again with Saihara, but… this time, this time there were more of them.  _ Ouma sighs, twirling a strand of his hair for a moment before running after the figure. Empty, hollow steps are made with every movement he makes, and eventually, Ouma finds himself on the rooftop, someone with scissors in their hand and in the other… Ouma couldn’t tell from this far, but he sure didn’t want to figure out.

They seem to be a student, wearing that blue and red-ribboned uniform- A female student, seemingly in their 2nd year with that badge that matches Amami’s. But on their head, was a black bag, covering Ouma from seeing their face.

There’s a sudden shout coming from Ouma’s mouth, though he isn't sure why, and he reaches over to try and rush to grab them, to stop whatever peculiar thing they were pulling, to what would stand a horrid prank like this- Or whatever this was, prank or not. But before he can-

_ They pull the scissors up to their chest, and a chill runs up Ouma’s spine when he realizes what’s happening. He stops cold, eyes widening with fear- not for himself, but the young woman on the opposite side, and when she raises the other thing in her hand and puts it underneath her mask, hugging whatever it is, Ouma feels sick. _

He feels like a deer in headlights. His eyes flicker a neon purple, and he can’t turn his head away from her.

The black-masked highschooler stabs the scissors into the cloth near her chest, over, and over, and over, and over and over and over and over- And she falls limply to the ground, still, a small vine of blood slowly falling from her chest, and Ouma feels relieved in a horrible way, he feels like a monster, even though he didn’t do the harm himself.

He feels as cold as the circuits running through his head, and he tries to suppress the amusement that came as he watched someone try to  _ kill themselves.  _ He tries to think back to what Saihara wanted him to do, but there’s no point, when the perpetrator tried to kill themselves.  _ I-I need to tell everyone- I need to tell Amami, or Harukawa.  _

He doesn’t add the reason why he doesn’t want to tell Saihara. Ouma hates the way Saihara’s eyes look, that strange double glance Ouma has to do in order to make sure he didn’t see Saihara’s eyes flicker a bright yellow- He hate the way his own eyes look when he glances at himself in the mirror, that one bandage on his cheek that never can disappear, and he sees his eyes flicker a strange brightness for a moment before he looks at himself again to only see himself and his dull, dull grape purple eyes.

Ouma’s chest falls as he breathes out the cold air of October on a roof, watching the masked person’s cold breath become less apparent and rushes down the stairs.

* * *

Saihara has almost forgotten how small his uncle’s car was when he usually walked to school or took the subway, how there was a small, stupid flower stitched randomly into the very corner of the seat, the AC in the back of the car not working as well as he liked when he was younger. Memories in this car were delicate, and little to none.

So this was not how Saihara would’ve suspected his next meeting in this car would be, his uncle in silence, Harukawa sitting in the back with two purple-heads Saihara met this month. Ouma shifts uncomfortably in the middle when Momota leans forward, and Harukawa has to push Momota back over to his side.

“Stop making noises!” Momoa shouts over to Saihara, who grunts in response, “Ugh, why’d someone have to kill themselves when we were there?” Momota rests his hand over the window’s ledge and mumbles something.

“T-That’s a little rude, i-isn’t it?” Ouma points out, and Momota groans, his head falling down. “I-It’s not like you…” Ouma glances at Saihara, and Saihara smiles back. “investigated the body.” Ouma doesn’t seem to appreciate Saihara’s smile.

After Ouma told Amami, everyone gathered on the roof when Saihara announced that on the intercom for the second floor classrooms. Instantly, when Saihara went to the roof, he examined the body when nobody but him and Momota would want to. It seemed that when the mask was taken off, it matched the pictures of what it looked like under the black-masked faces. 

The scissors broke her skin, and it seems like it touched her heart and her rib, so Saihara doubts she will survive, even after the police came and the ambulance. The questions they asked would seem a little bizarre, but Saihara tries not to think of it. Amami had someone come for him after, seeing as he was very pale and didn’t want to annoy Saihara’s uncle like everyone else had to.

It was late now, after all the questions the police asked and everything, though that made Saihara’s head a little more foggy than he would like. “Hey- It’s not my fault I-” Due to neglectance of what they were talking about, Saihara finds the conversation quite a bore.

“Ah. Perhaps…” Saihara interrupts, “So why did you have that file in your room? You can tell me now, because those two in the back don’t know, and Ouma… is trustworthy to the point I’d let him eat a fish alive.”

“Saihara… that’s n-not an idiom…” Ouma unhelpfully adds.

Saihara continues, “Actually, just tell me when we get home.”

A large frown replaces the stalemate line on his uncle’s face, clearly showing uncomfortableness. “I’ll… I’m not disappointed, or mad why you were there, I just want to know.  _ Why  _ were you there? I swear to fucking hell, I usually don’t give an ass what you’re doing, but this is going in-line with my work, Saihara.”  _ So I’m crossing the line.  _

Saihara remembers the matching black-masked, and the strange device covering the girl’s eyes just like the other black-masked cases.  _ But… are those coincidences? Using them as a cover-up? Or perhaps they're actually connected, the black-masked cases to my future self. I think that’s what my uncle’s thinking about. _

“And, plus, you might get hurt.” His uncle adds at the very end in a quiet voice. Saihara does a blank nod. But he doesn’t explain. Nobody does. And there’s a small pause that Saihara can’t make anything out of, as Harukawa mutters complaints about Momota, while Momota keeps on making strange, grumbling noises.

“Fuckin- Shut up! I swear to goddamn-” Saihara’s uncle shouts to them, and Harukawa lets one more small complaint before stopping, Momota frowning as he looks off into a space unknown. “Who even are you? You two bastards-”

“Stop cursing.” Saihara tells his uncle, grimacing, “We’re children.”

“A-Ah,” Ouma starts, “D-Didn’t you hear our n-names at the s-station?” When nobody responds, he continues, “M-My name is Kokichi Ouma, n-nice to meet you s-sir… A-And um… I-I remember you.” His voice is small as always, and when his uncle makes a confused grunt, Ouma doesn’t speak anymore, eyes drifting to the bottom of the seat.

“Fucking- It doesn’t matter who the hell I am.” Momota says.  _ He’s not going to say- I guess he really is in a bad mood. _ “Y’know what? Just let me off right now.” It’s not a statement, nor is it in a calm tone, “Just lemme out right now.”  _ I don’t think my uncle is going to like that attitude, but oh well. _

“Let me out as well.” Harukawa adds, “This place is close to my house, so I’ll be fine, and I’m sure Ouma would like to be alone in the back now.” Saihara tilts his head near the car’s door, watching the scene unfold.

“It’s f-fine… really. But… “ Ouma glances at Saihara, “N-Nevermind. I-I’m worried about the… the envelope. And…” Ouma takes a deep breath, never finishing his last words. His gaze is on Saihara’s uncle.  _ It must be something about that. _

“I wonder… You know, what if, since even though we followed the rules and everything, do you think they’ll attack any of us?” Saihara asks, “Other than Ouma, of course. Like a fake promise of some sort.”  _ Something that kids would pull to adults. Like… a game kids made up, and keep on adding rules.  _ A strange comparison, but it seems to fit better than all the others Saihara has came up with.

“Nah, I don’t think so, bro,” Momota shakes his head, and although Saihara can’t see, there’s a strange fist punching noise coming from behind the chair. “And if there is, then we  _ punch  _ them.”  _ I know he would be able to do that, and Harukawa has a bat from one of her friends or something, but Ouma wouldn’t be able to do that, and I’m not allowed to bring a knife on campus.  _ Saihara pauses.  _ Actually, I may just be able to. _

“What are you kids even talking about? Ugh… I don’t have the energy to understand.” Saihara uncle groans, rubbing his temple with one hand as he takes a sharp turn with the car. “Alright, I’m at a stop here, now whoever wants to leave can get the fuck  _ out. _ ”

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Poll: [KKKKKKKKKKK](https://strawpoll.com/67xh25dyq)
> 
> Thak you to guest KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK


	46. Harukawa and Saihara's Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harukawa leaves the car, and Momota seems to have dashed up to wherever he is going, and she can almost imagine the fuming flames from him. She snorts, before swinging the bat and going down her jolly way down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I did a small thing in this chapter, and a small easter egg, that hey! If you notice, the story may connect more for you. I'll give you a hint, Saihara is the one saying it in this chapter.
> 
> Anyways, yeah, i guess i am technically redoing the voting schemes for Saihara's situation for ch 3 but for this.

The walk home is quiet, almost deceitfully so when Harukawa kicks a small pebble she’s shocked still, and there’s someone laughing in the background, something tapping its foot quietly, that brings her back to Earth.

 _It’s fine._ There’s more steps behind her, and she can hear the small breathing sounds from herself. It was quite unfortunate that nothing was ever this supposed ‘ _fine’_ people liked to speak of, Harukawa thinks, tapping at the bat in her hand with her fingernail. Especially for Saihara, or the story that she knows of. 

Harukawa snorts, swinging the bat up.

It’s a funny story, actually, how everything played out. A strange one, sure, but a funny one nevertheless. 

It was in Elementary when they first met, too young, and too small. Little Harukawa, eyes wide with red, hair dark brown, one mole below her eye, another below her wrist, one more on her neck, and a small bracelet from her mother. Nine year old Harukawa, wearing that dark blue uniform that didn’t match her red jacket.

_“What’re you doing, uh… Sihara! Siahara, Sihara? Sihara.” Harukawa says, pronouncing it over, “Saihara?” She was leaning over her chair in front of Saihara, who seemed occupied with solving a strange puzzle of… Well, Harukawa wasn’t too sure what he was looking at, but it was something, and it was existing right in front of her._

_Saihara, a curious character in the third grade community, Saihara, a quiet kid without any friend, what one could call a loner, Harukawa supposes, but to what she saw in her own eyes, he was just lonely._

Harukawa snorts at the memory. _Lonely?_ As if.

_His hair was black tinted prussian blue, grey eyes that Harukawa swears, that she sees flicker the color bright yellow, and he liked to wear a small, black necklace with a single cartoonish bear under his shirt, that only people who observed him close enough could find, and the others would make fun of if they ever found out._

_Saihara rarely spoke, but it seems this time, he has decided to, “I’m solving a puzzle my friend wanted me to solve.” Friend. It’s a well-known fact Saihara doesn’t have any friends._

_Harukawa’s eyes fall down to what he’s solving. It’s a single paper, made into a strange shape that certainly couldn’t be classified as origami, crumpled up at tethered parts, a strange, red-like substance and pink substance sprayed over like graffiti. Harukawa falls silent, when she doesn’t understand._

_“... Uh… That’s not a puzzle.” Harukawa finally speaks up, after Saihara folds one more part and suddenly, it’s much more flatter than before._

_Saihara tilts his head, a strand of hair falling loose. Harukawa has a hard time thinking he’s a boy, really, when he looks even more thin and fragile than Harukawa was, and shorter as well. He had longer eyelashes, and pale skin. Maybe he was secretly a vampire. A small snort falls out of her mouth, and Saihara’s head pops up like a raccoon in stress._

_“Why are you laughing?” A strange question, but nevertheless, a question. And from Saihara, no less._

_Harukawa has to take a double take on his words before explaining as though he were a child and she were the teacher. “Because I can? Obviously. Who needs a reason to laugh? Hey- If I want to be a freak, then that’s fine with me.”_

_Saihara pauses, as though deeply thinking, and he folds another piece in silence. Harukawa watches a little more before boredom creeps in. but of course, she has to continue talking to Saihara, of all the people in the room. “What are you even making?”_

_There’s another large pause when Saiahra stills, and Harukawa swears he might have become an unfunctional robot, until he smiles. “I’m not making anything. I’m just doing a puzzle my friend asked me to solve.” It felt like Harukawa was in an interview, and Saihara was the one taking the role as the dense interviewed._

_“Friend?” Harukawa asks a little more carelessly than she would’ve liked. “But you don’t have any friends.” That’s a statement, something everyone knows. Don’t talk to Saihara, he doesn’t have any friends. Don’t talk to Saihara, he’s a freak. Harukawa then, must be the one who believed in the framed criminal, if that’s the case._

_Gosh, now she feels like a detective. Talking about criminals, isn’t his dad a detective..? Hm… Harukawa snaps out of her own thoughts as Saihara shrugs, saying, “I have an Aunt, and an Uncle, and I have myself, and my grandparents, and sometimes I have a mom and a dad, and I have a friend. One friend.” Well, that breaks that myth._

_“Really? What are they?” Harukawa asks more._

_Saihara looks up, and his eyes flicker a clear bright yellow, that it freaks out Harukawa more than it should. He goes on and on about this strange friend of his, and how she’s so talented, that Harukawa naturally assumes she must have more than ten fingers. “-She liked to take me to hidden places, like one time, she let me visit her classroom and the roof, even when the door was locked and everything was barred up, and she happened to have a key to a house once, and an empty apartment, and her and I like to hang out by the bridge, and we once went behind a convenient store and found a secret shack- Oh, and one time we went to this graveyard and she told me-” So Saihara can talk, Harukawa thinks in her head as Saihara pauses once more, eyes going wide, “Ah… nevermind.”_

_“Nevermind?” Harukawa asks._

_Saihara’s head goes down, and he goes back to focusing on that strange, non-existent puzzle of his, “She… I remember now. She doesn’t want me to talk to you… Sorry.” Not talk to you? What could that mean? Saihara continues, “Something about… assassins, or something.” Harukawa’s blood goes cold when she hears that, and when she looks back down at the paper, which seems to have turned into a disfigured origami of a shaped heart._

_And Saihara rips it apart in front of her eyes._

They talked some more after that, and when Harukawa visited his house, there… Something- Something happened. Harukawa’s memory doesn’t seem to allow access to that. After Elementary, after… a certain figure to her disappeared, something seemed to happen to Saihara, but nobody noticed.

He became… stranger, sometimes talking to himself and saying strange things, and acted like he forgot everything. Saihara laughed more, talked more, became more friendly, talking about something like Danganronpa sometimes, and he became the center of attention in no time. But there was a strange air to him Harukawa had a hard time analyzing. They became friends, best friends even, and eventually, Saihara faded into the background once he simply said, _“I’m bored now.”_

And she got a letter, addressed to her, in her second year of middle school. It was from Saihara’s friend, and inside, it said a single word, _“Despair.”_ A small signature was written in the corner, and as Harukawa finds now, it’s the same signature as the other envelopes she has gotten.

Harukawa hears more steps behind her, and she stops dead in her tracks. _Someone’s behind me, and they’ve been tailing me for a while. Could it be..?_ Harukawa’s grip on the bat tightens, and there’s a faint tap on her shoulder, quiet breathing, and the steps silenced as well.

 _What would Saihara do in this situation? What should I do?_ Sweat beads down her forehead, and Harukawa bits her lip. _I need to..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Poll: [lemon bars.](https://strawpoll.com/vcz6fwzv6)
> 
> Thank you. One quest. Questi. I mean guest. on't know what I'm typing send help-


	47. SMALL NOTICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a small notice to the people who vote, as well as read daily or get a notification for this. I will delete this notice later when the week is done and continue writing, sorry!
> 
> I won't be updating this for a week because I have a project in my head I want to get down real quick and in my head, my writing priorities have switched to (what I write first):
> 
> 1\. Smol Project, to remain anonymous.
> 
> 2\. Choices to Choose, or whatever weird name I came up for this.
> 
> 3\. Choices to Choose story setting plot situation.
> 
> 4\. Prompts.
> 
> And like, at the very bottom I'm thinking of rewriting the Danganronpa and Persona 5 crossover because I hate the writing style because too many words and hard to read, as well as unnecessary information.
> 
> Anyways, that means I will be not posting 7 chapters. :\ THat sounds like a lot more all of a sudden because of the way it sounds but it's not because it's only plot filler and silly votes and some plot but ignore that-
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this!

Please read the summary to summarize, or this, because this is the summary in a way I guess. I'll delete this notice later when I start writing again not to annoy the people who bing read this and don't have to deal with this in the future.

So I will be taking a small break (7 days) in order to write prompts and a small project in my head that I'm excited about. IF you want to know what it is, then I will give you a small hint: _apples_. Doesn't make sense, right? Well, this fic doesn't make sense and yet here I am, writing this, eating lollipops because I'm bored. 

If you want to tell me any ideas what to add in this fic then please tell me, or any ways to make it better. Like, instead of updating everyday after I finish the word count, to instead keep writing for 7 days and then have it add up to 7,000 words so easier to keep track of updates, or to only do chapters with votes and just add the ones without votes to the ones with votes, or events you want to happen in this story (I'm already adding all the birthdays and holidays and did a quick glance at Japanese school schedules but tell me if I messed up-). Please tell me!

Also, ALSO ONE MORE THING, shout out to Rose_Flora! :D IDK why, they just keep leaving hearts on this and I like that. Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to t0k0_k1nn13, and the nine guests!And god is that kinnie for Toko a name.


	48. I DID SOMETHING AGAIN MOTHER SPARE ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo imagine being a new to being subscribed to me, and then getting this update a bond being like, w h a t. Yeah. You'll get spammed a lot. Not really. That's a lie. Everything I said was a lie. Erase it from your memory wohhhshshshshshshsh ghost noises! :V

So remember when I said this was a joke series? Joke series meaning I might shut any time I want and just leave this project alone or restart it. Guess what I'm going to do.

Restart it to make this better and plot wise more sense! And not having votings for what the character should do because damn that took so much energy away from me once I got the hang of it. 

So UH, I'm redoing it, and it will be better, longer chapters, and less updates so I can actually wrote those longer chapters, and it won't be as scheduled as much. I will keep almost all the plot things the same and everything, and the days will go by faster or slower or it will just be the important stuff and inside jokes.

It was just very draining and even though I got better at typing faster and thinking faster, as well as learning I should plan before, I want to know get more into characters and studying them since I need to do that more, as well as learn how to better my writing with different techniques and yeah.

If you want to see my progress, or just like my writing then, I actually have a server now im not really sure?? So if you want to one on one talk with me with other people and help me get chapters done faster and ideas, then you can join if you want, or not. Also, if you want spoilers. I guess. Don't know why anyone would be interested in spoilers from such a bad story but ok.

Also I'm fucking weird when you talk to me I'm sorry ;-;

Here's the link : [Yeah](https://discord.gg/MTzz2z)

And if you don't trust me here: https://discord.gg/MTzz2z


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